He still stands inspite of what his scars say
by me.fergie
Summary: My idea of Ryan's childhood. Warning: mentions of child abuse... well youth abuse.... rather. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

Okay, so far, this is just a try. I don't know how long it will be (depends a lot on how many people will read and review…), but I just thought it would be a nice story to write when I have a writer's block with "Watch out for the Wolfes". And since we don't know anything about Ryan's childhood, I think this might be a possibility…

I don't own CSI Miami, Ryan Wolfe and his uncle, but I do own this idea, and Duke and Doreen Wolfe as portrayed here. The title of this fiction is a line from Amy Winehouse's song "Some unholy war".

**Warning: **There is gonna be mentions of child abuse in later chapters

**He still stands in spite of what his scars say**

Chapter One

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"_Where does discipline end? Where does cruelty begin? Somewhere between these, thousands of children inhabit a voiceless hell." __Francois Muriac_

_-------  
_

The first memory Ryan Wolfe had from his childhood was when he had been 9 years old. It was dinner time; he was sitting at the table, just about to put a fork into his noodles, when his father said:

"Ryan?"

Ryan raised his head, "Sir?"

"Sit up straight." Ryan put the fork down and tried to straighten his back. His father nodded and continued eating. After five minutes, he said again, "Ryan?"

"Sir?"

"You're sitting there like you had no spine. I told you to sit up straight."

"I'm sorry…"

Another ten minutes passed until Ryan's father put his fork down and said, "Get up, Ryan."

Ryan looked at his father, "What did I do wrong?"

"Get up, I said." Ryan got up. "Go to the wall over there."

Ryan walked over to the wall opposite the dining table. Now his father got up too. He went over to where Ryan was standing, grabbed his shoulder and made him stand with his back against the wall. The father pinioned his shoulders, the back of his head and his feet and his arms against the wall. Then he said, "Until you have learned how to it up straight, you can stand here." Then he walked back to the table where Ryan's mother and his sister were sitting, and continued his dinner. Ryan didn't dare to move. When they had finished dinner, he was sill standing there.

--

The other memories he had were all very similar. 'Sit up straight, empty you plate, get a decent hair cut, shut up when adults are talking, clean up your room…' To clean up the bedroom was the most important thing. Ryan's father had taught him when he was ten. He had left him in the room and told him to clean it up. Ryan had taken the broom and started cleaning the floor, putting his toys and books neatly in the bookshelf. After an hour, the father came into the room, looked around, and left, just saying, "Not good enough. There's dust on the wardrobe." Ryan nodded and started dusting the wardrobes, and everything within his reach. His father came back, and again left, saying, "Not good enough. The lampshade." Ryan noticed he had forgotten the lampshade. After he had dusted it, his father pointed out that the heater wasn't clean, so he had to clean the heater. Then his father came back, nodded and said, "Just what I thought." And then he started teaching Ryan how to properly clean the room. It took him several hours. After that, the room was shining. There was no dust, nothing. You could have eaten from the floor. But Ryan was completely exhausted when he went to bed that night. Two days later, it was the same situation. And it continued over the next weeks. He cleaned his room, his father watched him. For hours and hours. Later, his father didn't have to control it anymore, because Ryan had been so worried about every little piece of dirt that he started cleaning the room everyday.

--

Ryan's father, Duke Arman Wolfe, was a soldier. Lieutenant General. His father, Ryan's grandfather, had been General. Having a soldier in the family had been tradition in the Wolfe family for generations. And Duke Wolfe was determined that his eldest and only son, Ryan, would continue that tradition. When Duke had grown up, his father had early enough started to form his character by teaching him discipline in every aspect. And it had taught Duke a lot. He was a real man. And when his beloved wife, Doreen, had told him she was pregnant over a son, Duke knew he would teach his son the same values he had been taught. Discipline. Cleanliness. Manners. Strength. So that later, when he would join the army, at least those things would be in his blood already.

--

Now, Ryan Wolfe was sixteen. A 16 year old teenager, the best in his class at school, quite a good sports player, and a tough guy. At least, that was what his friends thought. But of course, they didn't know Ryan's inside feelings. Rule Number One: Don't show any feelings to anyone. They didn't know about the diagnosis the shrink had given him. Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. His uncle Ron, his father's brother, had found out. Of course, without telling Ryan. When Ryan had come over for holidays, Ron had invited one of his friends, a shrink, to take a look at his nephew. He had noticed it immediately, and had informed Ron, who had told Ryan. At least Ryan knew now what was wrong with him, why he couldn't stand any dirt, why he had to count everything he saw… But of course, Ryan hadn't spoken to anybody about that, besides Ron. His friends made fun of him because he was such a neat freak, but it didn't bother him too much. After all, neatness was a good thing. It was important. Ron had worried about him… But it was useless. He was alright. And the counting… well, okay, that sometimes annoyed him. But then again… How could he be sure everything was okay if he didn't count? If he left home, he just had to check if the door was locked. Four times. If his room was okay… you know, no shoes lying around on the floor. Somebody could fall over them and break a leg, or an arm… And he was only satisfied if he had checked it four times. Four times was okay. He was okay. He had to be. Just what would his dad say if he knew that his son was obsessive-compulsive? Ryan had begged Ron not to tell his dad, and Ron, Ryan's closest friend ever since, had promised. After all, Ron knew what Duke was like. And he didn't care for family tradition. To him, his nephew was like a son. And whenever Ryan came over, Ron tried to make life easy for him. Showing him Miami, just how easy-going life could be. No cleaning, no sitting up straight, no such things. And every time, when Ryan's holidays were over, it broke his heart to see him go back to his father. But Ryan never complained. Not once. Though Ron could feel that Ryan, despite what he pretended, was scared of his father. And as soon as Ryan was leaving Ron's apartment, the boy was on his own….

--

Ryan was half sitting, half lying on his bed, reading Sherlock Holmes, when the voice of his father echoed through the house.

"Ryan??"

Ryan got immediately up. Making his father wait was never a good idea. He walked down the stairs and arrived in the living room, "Sir?" The father was sitting on the couch. Ryan had bowed his head, waiting for his father to say something. He had learned a long time ago not to say anything more than necessary. He would wait until his father address him again.

He didn't have to wait long, "We're having guests for dinner tonight. I expect you to behave. And tell your mother to cut your hair. It's too long."

Ryan nodded, "Yes, sir." The father walked away.

Ryan waited until he was out of the room, then he sighed. His hair was too long. It was barely 2 cm long. He shrugged and walked over to the kitchen were his mother was already preparing the soup, "Ma'am?"

"Yes dear, what is it?" Doreen Wolfe was a beautiful woman; long blonde hair, deep blue eyes, slim and slender. Ryan had inherited her features pretty much. She had the same way to move. Now she smiled at her son.

"I… My hair…" He motioned to it. His mother sighed.

"Just go upstairs to the bathroom, will you? I'll be there in a minute. The hair clipper is in the bottom drawer."

Ryan nodded and went to the bathroom.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

At 7:56 pm, Ryan was ready for dinner. He took one last look in the mirror. His suit was perfect. He hated wearing a suit, but his father wanted it. After all, when he invited his army friends, he wanted his son to look good, and as long as he didn't wear the uniform, a suit would do just well. Then he checked his hair cut. 3mm on the sides, 6mm on top. He sighed a bit. He liked his hair a bit longer, but his father didn't. A good appearance depended a lot on the hair cut, he always said. And the fact that he already had tolerated 2 cm was new to Ryan. Normally, 1 cm was already way too long. He shrugged. There was no way he would have his hair the way he wanted it. When he'd join the army later on… Not that he wanted it, though… The doorbell rang. Ryan speeded downstairs. His sister, Deborah, was already waiting. She was wearing a long dress. Despite the fact that she was only 11 years old, she was already more like her Daddy wanted than Ryan had been at that age. Okay, she was a ballet dancer, so she knew how to sit up straight and stuff, but nevertheless, she had learned a lot. Her hair was neatly combed, her dress ironed, her shoes clean… No wonder she was Daddy's favourite. His mother looked gorgeous too. And of course, his father was wearing the uniform.

He seemed rather annoyed now, "Why are you so late, Ryan?"

Ryan answered, "Sorry, I had to clean my shoes again… Sir."

"And you still forgot the tie…"

Damn. He bowed his head, "Sorry…"

"We will talk about that later." The father opened the door.

--

An hour later the Wolfe family and their guests, a soldier colleague of Duke's, his wife and their young daughter, were sitting at the dinner table. The soup Ryan's mom had made was delicious, but Ryan was so concentrated not to spill anything that he couldn't even enjoy it properly. His father was already angry because of the tie he'd forgotten that Ryan didn't want to draw any more attention to himself. Deborah though, who was sitting opposite of him, had other things in mind. Just when Ryan was about to bring the spoon up to his mouth, she kicked him under the table. Though Ryan managed to not hiss out of pain, of course he spilled the contents of the spoon right on his trousers. No one would have noticed though, if Deborah hadn't started laughing.

The father raised his head, "What's so funny, sweetie?"

She smiled at her father and pointed at Ryan, "He cannot eat properly."

Ryan gave his sister a look that contained a threat of assault and battery, but then he bowed his head and apologized. His father just looked at his guests again. Ryan placed his legs and feet out of his sister's reach, and the dinner went on without any further interruptions.

--

After the dinner, Ryan's father and his friend went to his father's office to have a brandy or two. The four ladies had made themselves comfortable on the couch, and Ryan felt a bit awkward. He couldn't stay with the women, but his father's office was taboo if he wasn't told to get in. But before he could even start to think about going to bed, his father did call him. Deborah gave him a smile. She knew petty well that Ryan was about to get lectured.

Ryan whispered, "You better not smile, or I'm gonna rip your Barbie's head off…"

His sister gave him a look before Ryan went to the office.

--

He knocked and waited. Two minutes later, he heard his father saying, "Get in."

He opened the door and stepped in, "You asked for me, Sir?"

"Close the door, Ryan." Ryan did what he was told. "I already introduced you to my friend here, Thedore Douglas. He's one of the top recruiters in the business." Ryan nodded. The man was tall and broad-shouldered, and had the usual haircut.

Now he came closer to Ryan, "I heard you want to be soldier, is that right?" Ryan only nodded. He couldn't possibly tell that man that it was actually more his father's choice than his own. At least not when his father was standing right next to him. "Well your father has kindly asked me to tell you a little bit about my work and about how life is in the army… Now, son, I'm gonna come over tomorrow afternoon after school, and we're gonna have a long chat. What do you say, son?"

Ryan glanced over to his father. He didn't even look at his son, so Ryan just said, "Sir, I would very much like that…"

"Good, son." The man seemed pleased. His father just waved him to go away.

--

Two hours later, the guests had left. Ryan was sitting in his bedroom, waiting for what to come. He knew his father would punish him for the tie and for spilling the soup. Stupid Deborah. He heard the door of the office open, and three seconds later, his father yelled, "Ryan!!"

Ryan got up immediately and walked over to the office. His father was standing in front of his office. Ryan approached him, head bowed down, "Sir…"

But the father didn't react; he just put something in his hand and said, "Bathroom."

Ryan nodded, "Yes, sir…" The father got back into the office and slammed the door shut. Ryan sighed and looked at the toothbrush he was holding in his hands. This was going to be a long night…

--

Ryan only stopped cleaning the bathroom when it was shining. He checked his watch. 2 a.m. In four hours he would have to get up again, getting ready for school. Fours hours only… better go to bed straight ahead… he was lying on his back already ten minutes later, after having brushed his teeth (with a different toothbrush of course) and folded his clothes. His back was aching. Damn Deborah. He sometimes wondered what he had done to make his younger sister do that. When he counted back, at least half of the punishments he had received had been because of Deborah provoking him. Well, this was the end of Barbie now… He heard a soft knocking to his door. He got up and opened.

It was his mother, "Hey honey. I just wanted to check if you are alright…"

He smiled a bit, "I'm okay, Ma'am."

"I'm on my way downstairs to the kitchen, do you need something? A glass of water maybe?"

"No, thanks. I'm just tired…"

She nodded, "I'm sorry for how the evening went."

"There's nothing to apologize for."

She sighed, "Well if you think so… Just make sure you're on time for that meeting with Mr Douglas tomorrow."

"Yes Ma'am…" She gave him a short smile.

"Sleep well, Ryan…"

"I will…" He closed the door, silently, and went back to bed. After a few more minutes, he had fallen asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

First of all, I want to thank Cendrekai, Save The Elmo, Watcom and of course my most faithful reader Compleatly Random Dissorder for their reviews. I'm really glad that you like this story so far, and I hope that I won't disappoint you with what follows.

Again, I don't own CSI Miami, Ryan Wolfe or Uncle Ron or UPS, but I own the parents and sister as portrayed here as well as the two officers, David, Vince and so on. I hope you enjoy this chapter and review a lot.

**Chapter Three :**

When Ryan woke up again later, he sighed. Four hours of sleep wasn't nearly enough, not even for him, who was used to not getting much sleep. He got up and went over to his wardrobe, getting his sports clothes out. Since he was a little boy, he ran a few miles every morning before school started. His father's idea of course, but it was something Ryan didn't mind. After all, it was a healthy thing to do. When he stepped out of the house, he enjoyed the morning breeze. It was summer, so the sun was already visible at the horizon. It was a pleasure to go for a little morning run. And the fact that he was the only one outside only added to this pleasure. No one that looked at him, no one that disturbed him… It would have been perfect, if he could think of something else apart from this meeting with Douglas tonight. So far, his father had often invited guests, but never asked any of them to talk to Ryan. The bare fact he had done it now, and immediately with a recruiter, only showed Ryan that his dad was about to go the whole hog. And there was nothing to do about it. Ryan's only choice was to listen, find it wonderful and extremely interesting and of course promise the guy he'd sign up. He picked the pace up a bit. He didn't want to. He had no idea what he wanted to be, but soldier surely wasn't number one on his list. He was so in his thoughts that he nearly bumped into a UPS truck in front of the _Museum of Science_.

The driver laughed, "Watch out. Didn't know the youth was interested in science anymore…"

Ryan rubbed his arm, "This is gonna be one hell of a bruise… Hopefully I didn't damage the truck…"

"Oh, no problem, son. Better the truck than the content. 1000 test tubes, the museum would kill me if I only bring in broken glass…" He gave Ryan a last smile and then carried the package over to the museum.

Ryan grinned and continued running. Half an hour later he was back home. He took a shower, then changed into suitable clothes for school and was ready for breakfast. His mother and sister were already there. Deborah was eating her cornflakes. Damn, he forgot to kill Barbie. Well, didn't matter. He sat down with a cup of coffee and a toast.

2 minutes later, his father arrived. He was already dressed for work. As he poured himself a cup of coffee, he said, "Ryan, I expect you to be on time for the meeting. You know that being on time is a matter of discipline."

"Yes, sir…"

"So, make sure you are here on time. What would Mr Douglas think if you don't show the discipline?"

"He would not be pleased, I guess…"

"Do you really have to guess?"

Ryan shook his head, "No, sir…"

"Good." The father drank his cup in one go and then got up. "I'm leaving for work now, but I'll be there when Mr Douglas arrives." He bowed down and gave his wife a kiss. "Have a nice day, my love." Then he ran his hand through Deborah's hair. "You too, sweetie, and pay attention in school."

"Yes, Daddy…"

Ryan flinched a bit. If this had been him, his father would have been angry. But of course, Deborah, little sweet Deborah, with her long hair and her big blue eyes… The father walked to the door and left the house. Ryan got up to and went back to his room to get his books and stuff for school.

--

When he arrived at school, his mate David was already there, sitting in front of the schoolyard. When he saw Ryan he got up, "Hey. You haven't by any chance done the chemistry homework…"

"Sure I have. You don't?"

"Nah… I seriously suck at it. How about you let me copy yours?" Ryan grinned. To somebody who didn't know David, this might have sound like he was lazy. But Ryan knew very well he wasn't. He was a talent in languages, but as soon as things became a bit scientific, he really sucked. So he nodded and gave David his homework. After all, David would pay it back, the latest in the next Spanish paper. It was not that Ryan was bad at Spanish. But all these exceptions in languages… he didn't like them. He liked facts. And all this Chemistry, mathematics and physics… those were facts.

--

After school, when David and Ryan walked back home (David lived a bit out of town, but he always accompanied Ryan to the bus station), their attention was suddenly caught by a mob of older guys. Ryan knew some of them. The leader was Vincent McCormick. Ryan had been in the same class with him for five long years. Vince had loved to pick on younger students, geeks, and everybody that wasn't "normal" in his opinion. At the beginning, Ryan had been his favourite victim, but at some point, he had lost interest. This was mainly because Ryan, the older he got, the more he had followed one of the most important rules in the Wolfe house: "Don't cry." Of course, that rule was only for him, not for Deborah, whose tears had always melted Daddy's heart. Ryan remembered when he was young, the time his father gave him beats on his hands with the ruler when he had done something wrong, for every tear that escaped his eyes more beats were to follow. At some point then, whatever new ideas Vince had to torture Ryan, Ryan didn't show any more signs of pain. And well, at some point, Vince decided Ryan was boring, and turned to someone else. And apparently, as Ryan saw now, Vince hadn't changed a damn bit over the last few years. He was standing there with his crowd and, from what Ryan could see, they had cornered someone. Ryan sighed and gave his back pack to David. David asked:

"What, is there more homework for me to copy?"

"No, just take care of my stuff while I'm going to check what that brainless jock is doing there…"

"Yeah right. Shall I call 911 and have them have a trauma team available at the entrance of ER? Just in case?"

"Nah, just remember that my sister is not mentioned in my last will." Ryan put his hands in his pockets and walked over. In a split second he counted. Vince and four others, about the same build and size Vince was. Exactly what was he hoping for? To help this kid? He saw it was a boy, around 12 years old. His nose was already bleeding, and he was trying to protect his head from the kicks. Well, he had to. Hopefully, David would call 911…

"Hey Vince."

Vince recognized the voice, "Wolfe? Long time no see. But I'm really busy and can't be disturbed right now. Here's my fist, run against it as fast as you can."

Ryan laughed, "Wow, I wouldn't have thought you capable of such a refined joke… You sure must have heard that somewhere on TV?"

Vincent now turned around, "What's your problem, Wolfe?"

Ryan pretended to think about, "Well, let's see… Oh yeah… you and your… friends here are picking on a little boy…. Five against one? I call that hardly fair."

Vince made a step forward, "So, what you're telling me is I should look for one my size, right? Like you, for instance, Wolfe?"

Ryan nodded, "Yeah, like me. If you think you have to compensate the lack of intelligence you have with beating me up then give me your best treatment. But for Christ's sake, leave that kid alone."

Vince laughed loudly and said, "Well, if you absolutely want it, you can get it. C'mon guys; Hercules Wolfe here is gonna be more fun anyway."

Two of them stepped away from the kind and walked over to Ryan, who of course now could have slapped himself for having to be a hero. He felt the two guys taking his arms and holding them tight behind his back. But Vince only managed to land one punch in Ryan's stomach, when suddenly the noise of sirens echoed through the neighbourhood. Vince cursed, kicked Ryan once more in his stomach and whispered: "This isn't over Wolfe." The two let other let go off Ryan, who managed to stand on his shaky legs, and ran.

It was about time, because a second later the patrol car came round the corner. They stopped right next to him and got out. One of them ran over to the kid who was still lying on the ground, the other one asked Ryan, "What happened?"

Ryan just answered, "They beat the kid up."

David came by his side, "You're alright, mate?" Ryan nodded; even though his legs were still a bit shaky, he was at least more alright then the kid, obviously.

The cop who had run to him was now calling an ambulance. Then he walked over to his colleague, "I'm not a doctor, but I'd say the boy suffered a concussion and maybe a broken nose. From his breathing I'd even say he got a broken rib. How long were they already beating him?"

This question was addressed to Ryan. He shrugged, "No idea, sir."

"Have you seen the guys who did this?"

"Yeah, but I only know one. Vincent McCormick…"

The cop nodded, "An old friend of mine. I'm Officer Channing, this is Officer Roberts. And you are?"

"Ryan Wolfe, sir."

Officer Roberts frowned, "You're not the one who called us?"

"No, sir. That was my friend, David Neill." David raised his hand to indicate that he was David.

Officer Canning asked, "So, what have you seen exactly?"

David started, "We were on our way to the bus station when we saw this guys beating up somebody. I called you while Ryan went in between."

Officer Channing wanted to ask more questions, but then the ambulance came. While the doctors took care of the injured boy, David apologized and left to catch his bus, after they had made an appointment for the next day to take his statement. Officer Roberts got with the kid in the ambulance.

After they all had left, Officer Channing said, "That was a dangerous thing to do, getting in between those guys and their victim…"

Ryan shrugged, "I know McCormick from school. And after having been his favourite target for five years…"

The officer nodded, "Yeah, we had already a lot of kids who had been bullied by him. But so far, most of them were too scared to actually report him…" He took a look at Ryan, "It was very brave what you did."

"I was a bit too late though."

Channing sighed, "It could have been worse. Most people would have looked away. You didn't."

Ryan only nodded. Then he asked, "Is it interesting? Being a cop?"

Channing smiled, "It's hard. Sometimes you see things you wouldn't have thought humans capable off. But well… The most important thing is to protect the people in your city. And if you manage that… you sleep in peace when day is done. Why do you ask? You think of becoming a cop?"

Ryan shrugged again, "No, probably not. I guess I'm gonna be a soldier."

"You wanna save the world?"

"Why not?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong, it's an honourable thing to do… I thought of becoming a soldier too. But then I decided that they need me more here. There's a million soldiers to protect the country and save the world. But cops who help you when you are in need of help… You can help the citizens maybe more when you're by their side instead of in the desert in Afghanistan." He smiled, "But as long as you're one of the good ones, what you do to help is not important."

Ryan thought about these words and then asked, "Do you like being a cop?"

Channing nodded, "I love it." He reached into his pocket and gave Ryan his card. "If you have any questions, you might wanna call. I have to leave now. I see you and David tomorrow for your statement. And if McCormick is somehow threatening you, I'm available 24/7."

Ryan took the card and put it into his pocket, "Thank you very much, Sir." Channing smiled and got back into his car. Ryan put his hand on his aching stomach. Doing this, he looked at his watch- and froze. He was already twenty minutes late for the meeting…


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks very much for your reviews, I really appreciate it, since I still have a hard time getting reviews for my other story… Anyways, here's the new chapter… Enjoy

**Chapter Four**

Ryan raced the way back home, but nevertheless, he arrived half an hour late. Deborah was sitting in the front yard. When she saw her brother arriving, she taunted him, "If I was you, I'd run the other way. Daddy is very mad…"

Ryan didn't react, "Is Mr Douglas gone already?"

"Yeah. Waited for about 15 minutes and then left, telling Daddy that he wouldn't wait for somebody like you…"

Ryan sighed, "Shit…"

Deborah nodded, "Yeah yeah… I wish I could watch, but I guess tonight Daddy wouldn't want an audience…"

"Tonight?"

"Yeah, he left with Mr Douglas. Said he'd come back for dinner. Well at least you can have your fantasy work on what is expecting you. Have you seen Psycho IV?" Ryan just shook his head and entered the house.

His mother was sitting at the table and gave her son a serious look, "Ryan, where have you been? Your father is furious."

Ryan hesitated; of course, he could tell his mother what had happened. That he had protected this kid. But he just shrugged, "Does it matter?" Then he went upstairs into his room, opened his bag and took his chemistry notes. He had a lot of homework.

--

Shortly before dinnertime, the front door of the house was opened and slammed shut only seconds later. Ryan, who was still doing his homework, took a look at his hands. They were trembling. He was afraid. He had managed to pretend he wasn't for the whole afternoon. That it wouldn't be that bad. That his father would understand if he told him the story. After all… But he shook his head. It wouldn't change a thing. He would do what his father expected. Accept what would come, and handle it like a man. The man he was supposed to be.

"Ryan!!"

He closed his eyes. God, he was afraid. But nevertheless, he got up. He got up, opened his door and walked over to his father's office. He then knocked on the door, trying to stop his fingers from trembling.

"Get in…"

He opened the door and closed it behind himself again. His father was sitting on his chair behind the desk. Ryan bowed his head. And waited. The huge long case clock at the wall ticked. Tick tack tick tack. 10 minutes… 12 minutes… 17 minutes.

"Ryan, where have you been?"

Ryan raised his head and looked into is father's eyes, "I have nothing to say, Sir."

"I want an explanation."

"Would it change a thing? I came later because I tried to stop a bunch of bullies from beating the crap out of a young boy. I think I did the right thing though. And whatever punishment you give me now, I take it."

Duke took a look at his son. A long look. Tick tack… "Can you prove it?"

Without a word, Ryan took his shirt off. The bruises he had gotten from the punch and the kick were now visible.

His father nodded, "Okay. I believe you." He got up and put the cane he had been hiding behind his desk back in the closet. "I asked Mr Douglas for another appointment. He'll come over the weekend. Don't miss that one."

"I won't, Sir."

"What?"

"I won't miss the appointment with Mr Douglas, Sir."

"Good. Nevertheless, I won't accept the way you talked to me just now. It lacked the respect I want and expect from you. Put forth your hand."

Ryan did as he was told. The ruler…

--

Half an hour later, Ryan was lying on his bed again. He moved his fingers. They were hurting. Like hell. But he knew from experience that after a while, if he kept moving them, the pain wouldn't be that bad anymore. So he just kept moving them. He was a damn idiot. If he had kept his mouth shut, if he had responded his father in a nice and appropriate way, he wouldn't be lying here now, but would sit downstairs, with his family, having dinner. But no, he had to let his emotions have control over him. And oh hell, he had been right to be afraid. The shaking in his knees after Vince had punched and kicked him was nothing compare to the shaking he'd felt when he saw his father putting the cane back in the closet. This cane, this damn cane… His father didn't use it often. After all, he didn't really beat him that often. Only when it came to the principles. Like this respect thing. He had more refined methods to teach his son. But they hurt too. Like making him wait. First, he had waited for his father to come home. Then, he had waited in the office for his father to say something. And the whole time afraid of what would come. He shook his head. Well, it hadn't been too bad. By tomorrow, his hands would stop throbbing, and the whole thing would be forgotten. Then he reflected about the day. He knew he had done the right thing. Officer Channing had said so. And he was a cop. They were the good ones. Tomorrow, he would go and make his statement, and the weekend, he would listen to what Mr Douglas had to say. Though, he wasn't really sure what good this was. After all, he knew already a lot from his father's stories. What he had told him about his work didn't please Ryan too much, but what choice did he have? The only son in the family…

--

"Ryan??"

Ryan sighed; what was now? But he got up and went downstairs. Dinner was over, and his parents and sister were sitting on the couch. He asked, "You called me, Sir?"

"Telephone. It's Ron."

Ryan smiled and took the phone, "Uncle Ron?"

Ron's voice was as usual warm and confident, "_Hello my favourite nephew. How's things?"_

"I'm okay, thanks. How 'bout you?"

"_Yeah, very good too. How's school?"_

"As always… Lots of work…" He grinned a bit. Ron wasn't the guy interested in school stuff. Ryan knew he only called from time to time to check if his nephew was alright.

"_Okay. Just wanted to ask." _

They chatted for half an hour, until Ron had to leave for some meeting. Ryan didn't want to know what kind of meetings his uncle could have in the middle of the evening, but then again, it was so Ron.

He hung up and was on his way back upstairs when his father asked, "Ryan?"

"Sir?"

"I don't think you should go over to my brother's for the summer holidays."

Ryan turned around, "Why?"

His father frowned, "I don't think I need to explain myself. You will stay here over summer and work."

"What?"

"No discussion. Go upstairs, and tomorrow you'll call your uncle and tell him you won't come over for summer."

Ryan just nodded and went back to his room. As he sat down on the bed, watching his hands that sill showed the red marks the ruler had left, he felt like breaking dishes. He had so wanted to go visit his uncle in Miami. The time he spend with Ron was always fun. He could go out as long as he wanted without having to tell Ron the details. He didn't have to be afraid to say something inappropriate. The two had dinner on the couch while watching TV. It was so the complete opposite of home. No, it was home. Ron's flat in South Beach was more home to Ryan than this huge, wonderful house here in Boston. And now, he wasn't allowed to go, but had to work. And whatever work it was, Ryan was sure it wouldn't be fun. Knowing his father, it would probably be something really unpleasant, where he could prove how disciplined he was in not complaining about it. Maybe cleaning hair clippers or toilets or something. He shrugged. At least, he would earn some money. Hopefully.

--

So this was my new chapter, I hope you liked it. I haven't figured out yet what he's going to work during summer, so if you have any ideas, you can let me know, maybe I use one of them, or they give me inspiration… (please send a PM in that case). Next chapter maybe tomorrow or Sunday…


	5. Chapter 5

Yeah, again a new chapter… Thanks again to all my reviewers, I'm glad you like this story. I promise I will continue "Watch out for the Wolfes" as soon as I have enough time to watch the episodes again… Please enjoy and review, the more you review, the faster I write.

**Chapter Five**

Ryan called his uncle first thing in the morning. He knew Ron was normally still awake at that time. Or again. With Ron you never knew.

He picked up immediately, "_Wolfe?"_

"Uncle Ron, it's Ryan."

"_What happened?"_

Ryan sighed, "Nothing I couldn't handle. I… I'm sorry but I can't come over for summer. I have to work."

"_This was surely your damn father's idea. What the hell does he want now?"_

Ryan shrugged, "I don't know. And honestly. I don't care. I'm sorry, Ron."

"_There's no need to apologize. At least not for you. You want me to talk to him?"_

"No, please not. I think it's better to just… accept it."

"_You cannot just "accept" all the time, Ryan. If you do, you're gonna end up dead in some far away country wearing a uniform. And I know you don't want this. And I don't want this. You're young, you're supposed to have a bit of fun. And where's better fun than here in Miami, with bad uncle Ron?"_

Ryan smiled at the last comment ,"You're right. But still. I don't want to waste my energy. I may need it for later on."

"_Later on?"_

"Yeah. You never know what will happen…"

"_You know, if there's a problem, you call me and then take the next flight."_

"Yeah I know. Thanks, uncle Ron."

"_And if this work is too hard, tell me, and I'm going to see what I can do."_

Ryan shook his head, even though he knew Ron couldn't see it, "Yeah, I will. Gotta hang up now. I call you…"

"_Good luck, Ryan." _

Ryan hung up. He sighed again. Ron always wanted to help him. If he only lived here round the corner, it would be so much easier.

"Did you tell him you won't come for summer?" A voice asked behind Ryan.

He nodded, "Yes, Sir."

"Good. Then there is no reason anymore for you to stand here doing nothing. Shouldn't you be outside, running a bit?"

Ryan nodded and went upstairs to get his sports clothes. When he then exited the house, he moaned. It was pouring.

"Just wonderful…"

He was soaked within seconds, but nevertheless made his usual miles. After an hour, he came back and went to the bathroom to take a shower. While the cold water was flowing over his shoulders, he made a mental note to tell his father that he would come home later today, because of his appointment at the police station. Hell, he had almost forgotten that. He reached for the shampoo bottle. The marks on his hands were still visible, but not as red as yesterday. He could tell David and his other friends that he had carried his mom's heavy shopping bag. They left marks similar to those he had. Hopefully the cop wouldn't notice, because Ryan wasn't sure he could actually lie to the authorities. He got out of the shower and took a look at himself in the mirror. Even though his training and all the physical endeavours, he was still rather lanky. He could do whatever he wanted, he just wouldn't grow broad. Okay, he was still young. But still, sometimes he doubted he would ever have his father's figure. He had talked to Ron about this, and Ron, in his practical way, had only said,

"Be happy about it. Once you go to war, if you're as lanky as now, it's harder to shoot you. I mean, it's easier to shoot Arnie Schwarzenegger than to shoot a lanky guy like… I don't know… Tom Cruise. Having your features isn't the worst that can happen."

Yeah okay, there, Ron was right. But well… No one would bully a guy having Arnie's shoulders… And as a consequence, he wouldn't have those large purple bruises covering most of his stomach. He went back to his room and took his clothes out. Long trousers, a plain white shirt. Then he went downstairs for breakfast. His family was already sitting there.

Ryan didn't sit down but asked, "Sir?" His father looked at him. Ryan continued: "I'll be home a bit later today. I have to make a statement at the police station, because of the incident yesterday."

His mother interrupted, "What incident?" His father told his mother in a few words. She looked at Ryan, "Oh my God, are you alright? Did they do something to you?"

Ryan shook his head, "Nothing bad."

"Show your mother, Ryan." Ryan hesitantly pulled his shirt a bit up.

The reaction was just as he expected, "Oh Ryan, for Christ's sake, this looks bad!"

"They're just bruises." Ryan answered.

His father didn't even look at them, but only said, "This is nothing." Then he added, "Behave at the police station. Even though they are only patrols. This is maybe a nice change in their daily routine, having something else to do but writing parking tickets."

Ryan nodded, "I will behave, Sir." Then he sat down next to Deborah.

That was a mistake. Before he could actually do something, she gave him a blow with her elbow, "Does it hurt?"

Ryan cringed a bit and bit his lip, "No, not at all…"

"Deborah, leave your brother alone." This was of course Ryan's mother. Deborah gave her a look, but didn't do anything further. Ryan's mother asked, "Are you sure your rips are alright?"

Ryan only nodded but his father said, "Doreen, sweetheart, stop this. If you worry about him, you will make a total wimp out of him. These are just bruises. A real man doesn't mind." Then he turned to Ryan, "And you, stop pulling a face like you were about to die. I guess I have to do something against that weakness."

Ryan only nodded and got up, "I have to get ready for school…" Then he went away.

--

After school, David and Ryan went to the police station. While David was in Officer Channing's office, Ryan sat on the floor, waiting. He looked around a bit. A whole lot of cops were busy running around, the telephone rang without interruptions. But what Ryan shocked the most was when a girl, accompanied by a female cop, walked past him. She was about the same age as he was, maybe even younger and had long blonde hair. But the most noticeable fact was that she was crying. Loudly. Ryan could see why. Her face was bruised, one eye swollen shut, the other one shone in bright purple. Under her nose was dried blood. She was spotting bruises on both legs. And her blouse was torn. Ryan knew enough and turned his head away. So, this was what Channing had meant when he said he was sometimes shocked by what humankind was capable of. And he was here worrying about the fact that he couldn't go to Miami for summer holidays. As if this was the worst problem on earth…

"Ryan?"

He raised his head. Officer Channing stood at the door, a gentle smile on his face. David came out of the room, and waved Ryan good-bye. Ryan waved back and followed Officer Channing.

Channing waved him to sit down in the chair and then asked, "So, how are you doing? Not too much in pain?"

"No Sir." Ryan sat down, but he couldn't really hide the pain. It hadn't been that bad until he had done his morning run. And of course, Deborah hitting him was not the best cure.

Channing noticed, "You know, you could report Vincent and his guys. Because it looks like you are in pain…"

Ryan shook his head, "Not like the girl outside…"

Channing nodded, "Yeah… and who knows if we ever catch the guy. Wore a mask, and dragged her into a backstreet where no one would walk on by…"

"Does that happen often? That you don't catch the bad guys?"

Channing sighed, "Even if we catch 99 out of 100, it's still one too many on the streets that can attack another girl. And we don't even catch 99. So… it happens too often." Then he smiled, "You seem to be interested in my job… How about we finish business and then I show you around a bit? Not that I m a recruiter or so, but if you like…"

Now it was Ryan who smiled, "I'd love to…"

--

It took Channing half an hour to write down Ryan's statement. After that, he showed Ryan the police station. He explained everything in a very detailed, yet interesting way. After that, they went back to his office, Channing with two cups of coffee of which he offered one to Ryan.

"It's not the best coffee on earth, but well… Cuban Coffee is not included in the budget so far. And no, we don't have donuts." He smiled, "So, how did you like it?" Ryan took the cup out of Channings hand, but before he could say a word, Channing had grabbed his wrist and was now taking a closer look at his hand. "So I was not mistaken. I thought you were trying to hide something from me." He gave Ryan a serious look. "Was that McCormick?"

Ryan tried to free his hand, but Channing's grip was firm, "No Sir. I helped my mom carrying shopping bags. They were a bit heavy or I carried them too long maybe…"

"Ryan, I cannot help you if you won't let me…"

Ryan shook his head and looked firmly into Channing's eyes, "I don't need help. Thank you."

He again tried to pull his hand free, and this time, Channing let go. He sighed, "You looked so courageous to me."

"I'm not. I did what I thought was right. It's not about courage." Ryan got up. "I should go now."

Channing got up too, "If you ever need me, Ryan, you know where to find me. Whoever did this to you has no right to do so."

Ryan just nodded and left.

--

When he got home, it was still time before he had to get ready for dinner. He sat down at the desk and tried to do his homework, but his mind was somewhere else. He had liked what he'd seen at the police station. So many people, trying to help… Hopefully they caught the guy who raped that poor girl. He sighed. He had never actually thought being a cop was an option. But Channing had been so proud when he showed Ryan around, talked about his job… It had to be cool… to really like what you do. He had never thought about it from that point of view. But then again, he had never thought of what would come after school. He knew it, after all. Sign up, become a soldier, go to war, die an honourable death, come back in a coffin, his parents would get the flag and his father would stand at his grave and say something like, "_Dulce et decorum est…_." Or he would be captured by… whoever was the enemy, dragged into a cell, tortured and then die because he wouldn't tell the enemy the secrets he knew. Something like that. He sighed. Well at least he had planned carefully. It was good to have a plan. Even if it wasn't his own…

--

Oh poor Ryan, all alone with his problems…


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

It was week-end. More precisely, Sunday morning. Ryan was lying on his bed, his body aching. His father had taken seriously what he had said; about doing something against the 'weakness' Ryan had shown earlier that week. The whole Saturday, he had dragged Ryan around. First, they went running, and not slow jogging like Ryan usually did, but fast running. And for a long time. After that, they had done sit-ups and push-ups. Ryan had lost counting after a relatively short time, but the way his arms and knees ached, he was sure it had been quite a lot. And of course, the push-ups hadn't been the best idea, since his bruises were still aching. He wondered if nobody had ever told his father that excessive sport like this was actually not very good for health. But then again… He wouldn't listen. Ryan checked his alarm clock. 7 a.m. He had to get up. Would take him some time though. Two minutes later, he was standing on his legs. Wow, faster than he thought. Then he sighed. Oh no. Sunday. Douglas would come over. Actually, now yesterday didn't look so bad anymore. He'd rather have this training again than having to listen to this guy. He went to the bathroom and took his shower. The cold water made him feel awake now again. Of course, he would have preferred warm water now; it would feel so good on his hurting body. But he had long ago decided… or it had been decided for him… to only take cold showers, and he had managed to not getting sick for the last 5 years. Like this he had managed to not miss classes or something. That was a good thing. He got out of the shower, took the towel and rubbed his hair dry. The bruises slowly started fading away. He went over to his bedroom, put some clothes on and went to the breakfast table. He prepared some coffee, made some toasts… When his parents and sister arrived, the table was set. Ryan wasn't really hungry, but he managed to eat some toast. The thought of this conversation with Mr Douglas really made him loose his appetite. He knew the man would tell him all the good stuff about his work, about the army, about how fun it was… He had heard it before. He heard it like everyday. Again, his thoughts went back to Officer Channing. He had told him about his work too, but it had been different. Channing had never tried to tell him that being a cop was the only good job on earth, the job every real man had….

"Ryan?"

Ryan looked up from his toast, "Sir?"

"What are you thinking about? This is the third time I called you."

Damn… "I'm sorry… I… have an important chemistry paper next week…" Thank God his father didn't know this was a lie…

"Mr Douglas will come over after lunch. We'll be in my office. Make sure coffee and cake are ready by then. You don't wanna let him wait…"

Ryan nodded, "Yes Sir."

--

Douglas arrived bang on time. Coffee was already waiting in the office when the two men and Ryan entered. Douglas and his father sat down in the two comfortable armchairs, while Ryan took the chair and sat down opposite them, his head of course lowered.

Mr Douglas took a sip of his coffee and then laughed, "Damn, Duke, you had your daughter prepare this one? I can see the bottom of the cup…"

Ryan couldn't help but smile inside. So, that was his plan. Ryan knew very well that his coffee was pretty strong. Even his father had complained sometimes about it. So, the only thing Mr Douglas was trying to do was to make him insecure.

Douglas put the cup down and took a notepad. "So, Ryan, as I heard from your father, you want to join the army, is that correct?"

Ryan lied, "Yes, Sir." He couldn't possibly tell the truth already now. He still had some hopes left. After having thought about what Ron said… Maybe being lanky was a good thing. Who would need a lanky soldier? And since he wasn't extremely tall or had other physical features that the job of a soldier could require, maybe at the end of this conversation Douglas would tell his dad that Ryan just wasn't the kind of guy the army needed…

"How tall are you?"

"177 cm, Sir."

"So, 70.1 inches… Weight?"

"69 kg, Sir."

"152 pounds… Oh, that's quite few… How's your health?"

"Excellent, Sir." That was the truth. Actually, he was around 71 kg, but well, Douglas wouldn't control that... at least he hoped. But his health was excellent.

"Your vision?"

"20/20."

"How old?"

"16…" What was he trying to find out? Douglas now turned to Ryan's father.

"What are the results of yesterday's training?"

His father took a notepad and read, "Push-ups: 62. Sit-ups: 54."

Ryan shook his head. So that had been the reason of this ordeal yesterday? To check how fit he actually was?

Douglas frowned, "So, the score for push-ups is 88, the score for sit-ups 62… well, you gotta work on this a little, Duke."

"I know, I know… but slim as he is, I don't want him to lose consciousness if I ask too much…"

Douglas grinned, "Well, why not? Maybe you should force feed him a bit…." Douglas wrote something and then asked, "Did you teach him the 'Soldier's creed'?"

"Not yet. I want him to first finish his school and then I teach him the important things."

"I see… so I guess the 'Army Core Values' will be new to him, too?"

Duke grinned, "Well, they might be new to him under that name… But believe me, he knows about them…"

Douglas laughed. Then he turned to Ryan, "So, tell me, boy, why do you wanna be a soldier?"

Ryan had prepared the answer, "Well, there's nothing more honourable than to fight and die to protect other people, right?"

"Right. So… Are there any questions you would like to ask?"

Ryan knew he was supposed to ask questions. But which ones? _Do I have a choice? Do I absolutely have to do this? Can't I just be what I want to be, not what my father wants me to be? _"No, Sir. I don't have any questions." His father gave him a serious look, like saying 'Oh, you have questions…', but Ryan only shook his head.

Douglas nodded, "Well… Then I'm guess we're done here." He got up. "I heard you're looking for work over summer? If your dad agrees, you will be my assistant. Given the tradition in your family though, I don't think he will have any objections to my plan…"

Duke got up too, "I would be glad if this was possible. I have no objections at all. I guess being with your guys can only strengthen his wish to become one of us. Thank him, Ryan."

Ryan nodded, "Thank you very much Mr. Douglas…"

"I'll see you around, Ryan."

--

When Ryan got to bed that night, he felt completely exhausted. Not physically, but mentally. His father hadn't talked a single word to him for the rest of the day, still angry because Ryan didn't ask Douglas about his work. But for one time, Ryan didn't mind it. He had enough to think about anyways. So many things were on his mind right now. Well, it was just one, actually. The 7th of the 'Army Core Values' Douglas had talked about. _Personal Courage_. His father had taught him how important it was, no matter if physical or moral courage. Doing the right thing, following the right path. Ryan wasn't sure what the right path was, though. He shook his head and buried his head under his blanket. Damn it! He was 16, he shouldn't be worrying about such things! His friends from school either worried about class papers or girls. Girls… what a nice thing it would be if his biggest worry was 'Does she like me?' and not 'I wonder in which country I'm gonna die!' _Personal Courage…_ Wouldn't it be courageous to tell his father the truth? No, it would probably be very stupid to do so. Talk to his mother? What could she do, after all? Uncle Ron… Ryan felt his fingers itching. He wanted to call Ron. No, better, run away, take the next plane to Miami and live with Ron. He wanted… he did not know it exactly. But he knew now for sure what he didn't want: Having to spend time with this Douglas guy in summer and feel again like at meat inspection. Forced fed… idiot. Stupid idiot. He sighed… A few more weeks till summer holidays… He still had time to… break his leg or something to escape this work. But he knew he wouldn't do it. After all, if there had been one thing his father had taught him over and over again was to fulfil obligations. And this job was an obligation…


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Funny, how Einstein had been right. While Ryan was waiting for holidays to go and see his uncle, time wouldn't pass. Now, that he had to work, with Douglas, the remaining weeks had passed like they had been days. Ryan had finished top of his class. David also had managed to not fail chemistry (thanks of course to Ryan's help during the final test), so both were in a pretty good mood when they walked home the last day before holidays.

David sighed, "Finally. I'm so needing that time off."

Ryan nodded, "Yeah, me too. So, what are gonna do during holidays? Any special plans?"

"Yeah. My parents and I are going to Miami. Two weeks only sun, beach and hot naked chicks. Hey, you're visiting your uncle, right? Maybe we can meet and hit the clubs?"

"We're 16, mate. No clubs for us… But I'm not going to Miami this summer. Gotta stay here and work for some guy my dad knows."

"Really? Work during summer? Man, that's shit. No naked girls for you, then."

"Speaking of, what does your girlfriend thinks about that 'naked chicks' thing?"

David had gotten himself a girlfriend about two weeks ago. Now he grinned, "Ah well. Carol doesn't have to know about that… But then again, I think she wouldn't even say a thing. She's pretty easy to handle, you know."

Ryan frowned, "Ain't that a bit boring?"

"What, you want a girl with temper? I mean, come on…."

"Well, I think it's better than having a girl at your side who does everything you want, says yes to everything you do and doesn't complain if you treat her like shit…"

"Well, once you have a girlfriend, you'll see what I mean, Ryan… Speaking of now, you noticed that Carrie Harper seems to fancy you?"

Ryan turned around, "What?"

"Yeah. Carol told me that Lynette told her that she has been told by her brother whose girlfriend is Carrie's best friend…"

"I repeat: What?"

David grinned, "She told her best friend she'd fancy you. She's hot, isn't she?" Carrie Harper was a girl Ryan knew from sports. She had long blond hair and big blue eyes.

Ryan shrugged, "I think she's rather… boring, yeah."

David gave him a look, "Seriously, mate, I wonder when I'll ever see you with a girl… You're afraid of them? I mean, come on… Every guy in our class already had something going on with at least one girl… besides you."

Ryan shrugged, "So what? Just because everyone else has, I have to, too? I don't think so."

"I'm just saying mate… And Carrie is nice. A nice lovely little…"

"Boring."

They had arrived at the bus station where David's bus was waiting for him. David nodded, "Okay. I see you back at school. Have fun here."

"You have fun in Miami."

The two boys shook hands and then Ryan went home.

--

When he arrived home, he noticed immediately something was different. A big red car was parked in front of the door. Ryan shrugged. Probably just some visitor for his dad. Hopefully not another army guy supposed to tell Ryan why army was the best thing on earth. He pulled out his key and opened the door.

"I'm home!"

A male voice answered, "Just who I have been waiting for…"

Ryan stood there not able to move the first few seconds. Then he smiled and ran into the kitchen, "Ron!!"

And really, there he sat at the kitchen table. Ron Wolfe. His black hair was fuzzy as usual; he was wearing a worn out t-shirt, jeans that had already seen better days, and his all time favourite black boots. Now he got up from the chair and hugged his nephew.

Ryan hugged back and asked, "What are you doing here?"

Ron sat down again and waved Ryan to do the same, "Well, when you told me you couldn't come over, I thought 'well Ron, why don't you go over to Boston then?' It's been a while since I saw my dear brother, so this is gonna be like big family reunion." He looked around, and when he saw that nobody was there (Ryan's mother was in the basement of the house, doing the laundry), he said: "Besides, I wanted to check on you. You sounded kind of down when we talked last time. Is everything alright with you?"

Ryan swallowed. Lying to Ron on the phone was hard enough, but now that his uncle sat here, his eyes showing clearly how much he worried about his nephew… Ryan sighed, "You wanna go for a walk?"

--

Outside, where neither his parents nor his sister could hear him, Ryan told his uncle everything that had happened over the last months. Ron listened and didn't interrupt him once. He knew how hard it was to get Ryan to talk, so he wouldn't have dreamt of stopping him. When Ryan after 20 minutes had finished, Ron waved him to sit down on a bench. When Ryan had done, Ron started, "So what are you gonna do?"

Ryan laughed bitterly, "What choice do I have?"

"You can choose to say no, Ryan. You don't have to do what he wants. You have to do what feels right for you. Like me. You know I should have been a soldier too, as our father wanted us both in the army. You know, two are better than one. I didn't go. I choose to live my life like I wanted it. I screwed up sometimes, sure. I did stuff that could have gotten me in hell's kitchen. But I never regretted leaving home and go to Miami."

Ryan shook his head, "I'm not as strong as you are, Ron. I'm… I'm scared. I don't want to disappoint him. Or mom. But then again, I just… I cannot imagine going to war and stuff. I mean…"

"I understand you, Ryan. But if you only do stuff to not disappoint people, you'll never be happy." Ron laid his hand on Ryan's knee. "I don't want to talk you into something, Ryan. Surely not as I know what the consequences will be. But you have to know what's more important to you. Making my damn brother happy, though I doubt he actually knows happy, or make yourself happy. Both together don't work." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. "So, how is this Douglas guy?"

Ryan sighed, "About the same as dad. Maybe worse. He told Dad to force fed me. But well, at least Dad didn't do that. But you can imagine what my summer will look like. At least you're here now…"

"Yeah. I couldn't just sit on the beach and do nothing…"

Ryan nodded and then asked, "What do you think he will do if I tell him I don't wanna be a soldier?"

"I don't know, Ryan. You are his only son, and the only one to continue family tradition, since he knows that I would never push my son, if I had one I knew, that is, to join. But I don't think he'll be delighted… But you shouldn't think of that. It's more important that you learn to make your own decisions. And you know I'm there if you need any help. Here." He pulled out an envelope and gave it to Ryan. "Hide this. It's enough money for you to buy a ticket for a flight to Miami. If you ever need one."

Ryan took the envelope and put it in his pocket, "Thank you. I… I normally wouldn't take it... But well… I might need it pretty soon."

Ron gave his nephew a look, "You seriously consider telling your dad, right?"

Ryan observed the street. One car, two cars, three cars… "Yeah. I'm going to wait though, after I finished working. Maybe, after all, I see something I like..."

"Yeah, maybe. But whatever you do, remember I'm there." Ron smiled.

Ryan smiled back, "I know. Thank you very much. For everything." He looked at his watch. "We should go back home. I guess lunch will be ready soon…"

--

The look on Duke's face was priceless when he saw his brother sitting at the table.

"Ron?"

Ron grinned, "Long time no see, dear brother? So, how's things?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I decided to come over, see a bit of the world, you know. And besides, I have some stuff here to take care of."

Duke sat down at the table, "What, you already cracked every safe in Miami, or what?"

Ron was a professional safe cracker. Somehow, he had always managed to avoid being caught. What Duke didn't know was that Ron actually, after having had one too many beers one night, had taught Ryan to crack safes too.

But Ron only laughed at his brother's comment, "Oh, you're only pissed off because like this I earn more than you do."

"I repeat: what are you doing here?"

Ron was still smiling, but his voice was serious, "Well, I decided to pay my nephew a visit. Since he couldn't come over this summer, I thought I might as well come here and see how he's doing. If he's… you know… okay." Ryan, who had sat down next to Ron, waited for his father's answer.

"He is, as you can see." Duke said.

"Oh, yeah, I see. A bit pale though, ain't he? And this terrible haircut…"

Duke got up, "Office. Now."

Ron grinned, "Me? Well, I'm not one of your khaki little slaves in boot camp. Ask me nicely."

"Would you please come over to my office?"

Ron got up and followed his brother. Before he left the room, he winked at Ryan. Ryan didn't wink back.

--

Duke slammed the door shut, "What did he tell you?"

Ron leaned against the wardrobe, "Not a single thing. Your son is more loyal to you than any American soldier I have ever met. Congratulations."

"I don't think I have asked you to comment on the way I educate him. He needs a strong hand."

"No he doesn't. He's more disciplined and stronger than most boys are in his age group. What you do is making him a puppet on your string. You really think this is the right way to make him a full grown adult?"

"What do you know about children?"

"Maybe more than you."

"Why did you come over?"

Ron gave his brother a look full of hatred, "I came over because I'm not dumb. I may not be a father myself, but I hear when somebody is in trouble. And although Ryan hides pretty well, I was worried. So I came over. And what I saw shocked me. And I tell you one thing, my dear brother: If you punish the kid while I am around, if I see him flinching or biting his lip because of some pain you inflicted upon him, I am going to report you. What you do is not education, it is abuse. You're abusing your son like our dad abused us. And I'm not going to watch while you ruin his life, you got that?"

"You know I can report you too, for the safe cracking?"

Ron laughed, "Just do so. I'd rather go to jail for a few years than leaving my nephew to you. Don't even think I am afraid of you, Duke. I never was, and I am not now. You better treat the kid right, or you gonna pay. And if I hear that he's mistreated at work, I'm going to do something about it. And now, I think lunch is ready." He left the office without another word. Duke waited a few seconds to call himself down and then followed.

--

Thanks for all your reviews, I try to update faster now, but can't promise anything. Luv ya all.

EDIT 11/14/09: Thanks to "someone else" for pointing out the mistakes. I'm always glad if somebody takes their time to review and give constructive criticism.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Ryan spent an amazing week with Ron. Not only that Ron was a bad-ass uncle, he sure was fun. They drove around town, spend afternoons in the park, where Ron played guitar and drank and smoked and hit on girls and women of every age, while Ryan was just sitting there and making plans. Not that he extremely fancied Ron's lifestyle, but it was better than this no-fun-at-all life he was living now. And by now, after a long conversation with Ron and some serious thinking, he had figured what to do. He would wait. Wait until he was done with the job. Maybe, despite all his negative feelings about the whole situation, he would like it. Maybe he would want to be a soldier once he had been with them. And if not, then he would talk to his father. Tell him the truth. He knew that Ron was behind him, no matter what, and he knew that he would never be happy if he didn't follow his heart, cheesy as it may sound. But it was what Ron had done, too. He had told Ryan a bit about how it had been in their home, when he and Duke had been little. It had been worse actually than it was for Ryan now. At least that was the impression Ryan had gotten. But Ron hadn't talked very much. On the contrary: Ryan had noticed that talking about his childhood wasn't one of Ron's favourite subjects when it went into detail. He only talked about it when he felt Ryan needed some "been there too"-talk. After all, what Ron wanted the most was that Ryan was happy. And he knew the kid wouldn't if he had to stay. This was why he had prepared everything. Especially the money. He knew the money was enough to fly to Miami, take a cab and stay in a hotel there at least two nights, if Ryan happened to arrive at a time where Ron was busy with some safes or girls. That could very well happen. But anyways. He had given Ryan, in the envelope, a list of the best hotels, he had given him plans of the flights he had to take… If Ryan decided to leave, he was prepared. And Ryan knew it. Of course, he had checked how much money it was, and he had seen the plans. It gave him a good feeling to know that he wasn't alone. But right now, he wasn't yet determined to run away. He would try.

--

When he woke up the morning of his first workday, he was a bit nervous though. He didn't know what this Douglas was planning, but he was damn sure it wouldn't be fun. He got up, took a shower and got dressed, then walked downstairs and prepared breakfast. Then he waited for Ron, who had promised to drive him over.

--

When he arrived at the base, he went out looking for Douglas' office. Some recruits passed him by, so he decided to ask one of them, "Sorry, can you tell me where to find Mr Douglas?"

The youngest of the recruits motioned to the staircases, "But better not disturb him; he's in an incredible bad mood, the stupid idiot."

Ryan grinned, "Sounds as if you don't like him."

The recruit looked around to see if nobody else was around and then said, "He's an idiot. He's stupid as hell. If he were to count to three, he would miscount at least 6 times. He came to my school, told me about the wonderful career I could have in the army. Now I'm sitting here. Damn, I could have gone to Europe, university and stuff." He walked on.

Ryan smiled. Nice guy, somehow. He walked up the stairs and knocked on the door of Douglas' office.

"Get in!" Ryan did. Douglas was sitting at his desk, in front of him papers, a pen in his hand. "Ah, Wolfe, there you are. I was waiting for you." Ryan nodded, although it was a mystery to him why the guy had been waiting, since he was 10 minutes early. "So, I've planned something for you. It's nothing difficult, so I'm sure you'll manage it." He motioned Ryan to leave the room and guided him over to a stockroom. "Here's two shelves with laundry on it…"

"Three." Ryan said automatically. Come on, don't fuck around with numbers. Then he remembered what the recruit said and had a hard time suppressing his laughter.

Douglas only said, "Yeah, three. Three shelves with laundry. Uniforms to be precise. I want you to fold them. Neatly. Correctly. These are for the new recruits. Once you're done with that, you clean the shoes. After that, you call me, and I'm going to check. And I tell you one thing: be careful. You wouldn't be the first that has to start again because I wasn't satisfied with the result. I have no problem in having you start all over. Again and again. So, better be careful…" He left.

Ryan, who was still amused about that the guy really couldn't count to three, walked over to the shelves and started folding. He grinned. No one besides Ron knew he was OCD. So nobody knew how good he was when it came to fold clothes neatly…

--

When he was done with the clothes, he moved over to clean the shoes. He wished he had gloves, but well… The shoes really looked like they had seen their share of fights, mud, blisters… But Ryan didn't mind. At least, not really. It would have bothered him more if Douglas had told him to only fold the clothes, and not caring about the shoes. Leaving dirty shoes standing in a corner without cleaning them up was a bigger problem for Ryan than actually cleaning them, disgusting as it may be. So he started scrubbing the dirt off. There was so much mud on all those shoes you could have filled a ring for naked women to do mud-wrestling. Wherever he got that idea from now. He scrubbed the dirt off about 100 pairs of shoes, if not more. Normally he would have counted them, but then again, where was the sense in counting them? He bowed over pair number 101 and started to scrub the mud from under the sole when a guy came in. Ryan just glanced at him, but it was long enough to see that the guy must have a pretty high rank in the army. Since he had no desire to talk to him, he pretended to not having seen him and just continued scrubbing. But he noticed nevertheless the man was watching him. More, observing him. Maybe waiting for a mistake. Or was Ryan just acting quite paranoid? Was he really thinking that his father had men everywhere that had nothing better to do than observe him? Well, you never know… So Ryan just continued his work, thoroughly. As usual. The man walked out again. Ryan shook his head and continued his work.

--

Two hours after he had started, he finished with the last pair. His back was aching. He got up, checked the uniforms and the shoes one last time and then walked back to Douglas' office. He reflected a bit. Well, this wasn't too bad. Ok, it was not the most interesting job in the world, but at least there was nothing humiliating about it, like he had feared before. Of course, he didn't know what the rest of the day would bring, let alone the rest of his time here. But it was at least a good start. He knocked at Douglas' door.

"Come in!"

He opened the door and walked in, "Mr Douglas, I'm done with the uniforms and the shoes."

Douglas got up, "I'll check on it. You stay here. Don't touch anything."

Ryan only nodded and leaned against the wall. He wondered what Douglas would say now. There were two possibilities. Either the guy would put down his work just for fun, because Ryan knew it was good work and there was nothing to put down, or he would just notice it and let him go on to some other work. Which was okay, too. Ryan wasn't used to get complimented anyways.

Douglas came back after 10 minutes, "Good work. Don't think I've ever seen shoes so clean."

Ryan nodded, "Thanks, Sir."

"So, since there's still some hours till quitting time, I want you to work here in the office." He motioned to two huge stacks of paper sheets. "I want these ordered. These are the sign-up sheets of the new recruits. Normally I order them alphabetically, so please, do it the same. There's a hole puncher over here and empty folders over there, and paper clips for the pictures."

Ryan walked over to the stacks. They were really huge. This would take him even longer than this whole cleaning. He sat down the table where the stacks were on, and first started ordering them in little stacks. Alphabetically. One stack for A, one for B, one for C, etc… After that, he ordered the stacks alphabetically again. Aaron, Abendroth, Ackelson, etc…. This took him about two hours already. But finally he sat there with 26 little stacks. Looked already way better to him. Then he flipped them over, so that the backsides were up front. Like this, he could start punching holes and immediately put them into the folder, and didn't have to waste time in first punching holes in the whole stack and then put them into the folder. So he started at AZ, put it into the folder, then AY, AX, etc… Every now and then, he checked if the sheets looked good. Damn, what a nightmare, accidently screw up punching and sheet that didn't exactly fit the other sheets… But of course, he didn't.

And after half an hour more, the stacks were gone and the folders full and ready to be put onto a shelf. Ryan raised his head, "Shall I put them somewhere?"

Douglas walked over, "Let me check them first." He flipped through the folders. Ryan had not only done what he had been asked, but also put page markers on the sheets, with last and first name of the recruits. Douglas checked them al. Then he pondered a bit, looked at the folders, then at Ryan, until he finally said, "I'm impressed, Ryan. I really am. I had lots of young guys working here, but no one was as thoroughly as you are. If you agree, I'd like you to go through my entire office this way, and put some order on the chaos."

Ryan nodded, "Of course, Sir."

"Good. But I think…" he checked his watch, "it's only 20 more minutes; I guess we can call it a day. If you want, I can show you around a bit. Since you want to be a soldier, I guess it wouldn't hurt to show you a bit how our recruits are trained…"

Ryan only nodded. He didn't understand a thing. Was this Douglas, the guy that had told his father to force fed him because he was too weak? The guy he actually thought was worse than his father? Ryan had heard of the evil twin cliché, but not of the good twin. Not ever. What was happening? But then he shrugged; as soon as he would mess up the first time, Douglas would show his true face again. Of that he was sure. They two walked down the stairs and outside. Ryan didn't have to wait long until a bunch of recruits passed by, jogging and singing. Among them was the guy Ryan had talked to earlier. He looked rather pissed. Ryan watched them until they were around the corner.

Douglas asked, "So, what do you think? Bunch of real men, ain't they?"

Ryan shrugged, "Haven't seen enough to tell. But if they sign up, I guess they are…"

"Some of them need a bit more training, but I think you can make a man out of every guy that comes here. Also out off you. The success and manliness is in your blood. I learned from your father that it's family tradition to make career in the army. So, I don't see any problems concerning your future." He checked his watch again. "Well, you can go now. I see you tomorrow. Same time, same place."

"Yes, Sir." Ryan put his hands in his pockets and left the base yard.

Outside, Ron was already waiting, sitting on the trunk. He gave his nephew a look, "Everything alright?"

"Sure…"

"Okay…" He got off from the trunk, opened it and put something in it.

Ryan frowned, "You were sitting here with a baseball bat?"

"Well, you never know…" Ron grinned, "If you had told me somebody was harassing you, I would have use it."

Ryan smiled back, "Well, I can assure you, nobody was harassing me…"

Ron opened the door, "Good to know…"

--

Ryan spent the rest of the day with Ron, and arrived home only minutes before his father came back from a business meeting. He had just sat down on his bed and grabbed his book when the voice of his father rang through the house:

"RYAN!! Downstairs!!"

--

Thank you all very much for the reviews... Tomorrow is my final test (spanish...) after that I might be able to update on a regular basis, as long as there ain't no writer's block... Please continue reviewing, it means so much to me...


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Ryan immediately raced down the stairs. What had happened? In his head, he went through possible catastrophes. His father had tripped over a pair of shoes Ryan had forgotten to put away? Impossible. Douglas had lied and had told his father all possible bad stories? If so, he would make acquaintance with Ron's baseball bat before the night was over. He arrived in the living room where his father was sitting on the sofa.

"Sir?"

"I have talked to Mr. Douglas… Is there anything you would like to tell me?"

Ryan hated this question. He knew there was always something to tell. But he rarely knew what. Like this time. What could Douglas possibly have told him? "I apologize, Sir… but I don't know…"

His father got up; Ryan involuntarily made a step backwards. "You know, Ryan… I always tried to teach you one thing. Hide your weaknesses. I have told you that this is the most important thing. You showed one weakness today, Ryan. One you, I must admit, managed to hide even from me. Can you guess what it is?"

Ryan shook his head, "No, Sir…" But then, he knew it. It hit him out of nowhere. If there was one thing he had shown, it was…

"You met a man today. You may not have noticed him, but he noticed you. And, you might call it a coincidence, but this man has a daughter… about your age… She's been in therapy for two years now… Well, once you've been confronted with something, you know the symptoms, and he recognized them immediately. Therefore Ryan, I ask you… Here and now… Are you, or are you not OCD?"

Ryan bowed his head; the guy that had watched him cleaning the shoes. He had sensed something was wrong. Immediately. Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you… He nodded, "I am, Sir…"

Duke looked at him. A long time. Ryan felt his knees shaking. He knew his father wouldn't like the thought of a mad son, because that was what Ryan felt sometimes. Mad. He knew of course this was b.s. He had done some research on the subject, and he knew it wasn't madness at all. But of course father-of-the-year didn't.

"I always knew something was wrong with you. Great, just great. I wonder where this comes from."

Ryan answered before he thought about it, "Maybe it's because you always punish me if I'm not careful enough that made me overly careful and obsessed…" He hadn't even pronounced the sentence fully when the alarm in his head rang, _Oh Ryan, you stupid idiot, what have you done? Oh gosh, you can be happy if he only uses the ruler on you… Why, exactly why do you never think before you open your mouth. This will get you in hell's kitchen!_

His father stood there, looking at Ryan, not saying anything. But Ryan could see that he was furious. That he was trying hard to remain silent. Or at least non-violent. In fact, Duke had a hard time not immediately dragging Ryan to the office and giving him a lesson. But he knew he couldn't. Not right now. First of all, because he was now too angry and probably would hurt Ryan more than it was worth it. And secondly, and he really hated to admit that fact, because Ron was here. Okay, he was in hotel quite a few blocks away. But he would come over to see his nephew. And act, if necessary. Duke wasn't afraid of his brother. It was something else. Duke could handle if Ron reported him to the police. But he was afraid Ron would call child services. Ryan wasn't a child anymore, but that didn't mean they wouldn't care. And if they took Ryan away from him, and had him for example live with Ron, his only son was out of his reach. And Ron would probably tell him that he could do what he wanted with his life, and that he didn't have to continue family tradition. Duke was afraid that this would happen. He needed Ryan. So he decided to not punish him. Now. But Duke Wolfe didn't forget.

"You better go now."

Ryan, who had closed his eyes during this long moment in fear of what would come, opened them again, "Sir?"

"I say you better go now. Go upstairs, and don't come down today anymore. Go!!"

Ryan nodded and ran up the stairs again. He closed the door of his room, leaned against it, took a deep breath and slid down slowly. He noticed he was shaking all over now. What the hell had happened? He had made it out of this situation without a scratch… That was not normal. Not at all. He had received punishments, even beatings, for less impertinent comments and answers. What was going on? Not that he wished his dad had beaten him. But if he was honest… What had just happened scared him even more. Because he knew next time it would hit him even harder. Emphasis on hit and harder. He only wondered when… He walked over to his bed, sat down and sighed. So, now his father knew he was OCD. He wondered if he would finally get this therapy now. Ron was going on and on about therapy and stuff, and Ryan knew he would eventually need one. It had gotten worse over the years. Okay, he still managed to have a life aside from cleaning and counting. He knew so many other people didn't. He read about people that had to quit jobs, got dumped by their partners… He had once met this girl round the corner, Marianne was her name. She was OCD too. Her biggest problem was about the door. She normally was the last one of her family to leave house in the mornings. He had seen her standing in front of that door, pulling the knob, walking away from the door, then returning and trying the knob again. She had told him she had the same problem with everything: burning candles, leaking water, etc…. Ryan knew he wasn't too far away from such things. And he knew he needed this therapy at some point, before it was too late. Now that his father knew it, maybe he would send him to a shrink. Hopefully. But somehow Ryan had a hard time to believe in that. He had noticed long ago that the most important thing to his father was what was on the outside. That they looked like the perfect family, that everybody looked healthy, strong (especially Ryan) and overall, sane. It didn't really matter to him that Ryan was a nut case, as long as he hid it well enough. So he wouldn't pay that therapy unless Ryan started walking around counting cars aloud or trying to clean the whole city.

--

"Well, he has to, obviously." Ron said the next morning when he was driving Ryan over to the base. "Now that he knows that you have a problem, he cannot possibly just go on as before."

"You think?" Ryan frowned. "I don't think he even accepts this as a disorder. He might think I'm just a wuss."

"But you know different. Try to explain it to him."

Ryan laughed, "Like he would listen."

"Yeah, I know…" Ron sighed. They had arrived at the base, and Ryan got out of the car. Ron waved him good-bye and drove away.

--

Ryan was on his way to Douglas' office when he met the man again. He was standing together with some other soldiers, all of them visibly high in rank. But it didn't impress Ryan. Not at all. In his head was just one single thought. If you could call it thought. It was more an impulse. An urgent need. So, instead of walking upstairs, he walked towards the man, and before the guy could react, Ryan got in his face:

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Don't you have better things to do than running to my father and telling him stuff about me? This isn't your business!"

The man first frowned at him and then laughed, "Oh, you're Duke's son. Come on, I watched you. It's time somebody takes care of this. I mean, the way you…"

"But this is not your thing to take care of, it's mine!" Ryan was furious. It didn't happen often to him; normally he was calm. But once he had started to freak out, it took a lot to calm him down again. "I'm really sorry your daughter is OCD too, but that gives you no right at all to mess up my life. I can handle things alone, thank you very much."

The man looked at him; he wasn't laughing anymore, "You seriously need to be taught some manner, son. Watch your mouth when talking to adults."

"And you watch your mouth talking to my father. My life is not your cup of tea." He gave the man a smile, but there was no trace of friendliness in it. Then he turned away and got up the stairs, leaving the man and his fellow soldiers standing there, at a lack of words.

--

A/N: I wanna thank my lovely reviewers, especially Dybdahl (thanks so much for wishing me good luck, I passed my test :) ). I try to update both my stories on a more regular basis now, as long as there's no writer's block, of course… Luv u all


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Ryan had expected he would get some punishment for talking to the man like this. But either the guy hadn't told his father about it or he simply didn't want to punish him. But nothing happened. The whole time when Ryan was working for Douglas, nothing special happened anymore. Only that, as soon as he had gone through Douglas' office and had finished putting order on the chaos, the work stopped being that easy. It became more what Ryan had expected in the beginning; he had to do a lot of things which he found rather unpleasant. He never told anybody about it, though. Especially not Ron. If he had found out about some things Ryan had been asked, no, ordered, to do, he would surely have blown the whole building down. In the silent moments, Ryan had to laugh about it. Ron was a wonderful person. But still, he couldn't talk to him about everything. It was pure irony: He couldn't talk to his father because Daddy didn't care, and he couldn't talk to Ron because Ron cared too much. He noticed that one big rule his father had given him had gone into his blood: Don't bother other people with your problems. No one. A strong man always keeps problems to himself, tries to solve them alone, and if they can't be solved, then he takes the consequences, and tries to make it work again, no matter what it takes. But he never ever bothers other people, or asks them for help. Ryan had always thought that this was wrong, that you needed other people at least at some point. But slowly, he had noticed that he was always reluctant when it came to asking others. He just had the impression they would think him as an annoyance, wussy, and completely incapable of doing things.

--

But then, at some point, Ryan's last day working for Douglas had passed. When he left the base for the last time, he felt it. This feeling of freedom. Absolute freedom. No more Douglas, no more those looks from the other soldiers, no more…. He shook his head. _Don't think about it. Just forget it. Besides, this is not the last time you're here. You have to come back…_He hadn't made a decision. He knew he had told Ron he would, but he just couldn't. Okay. He didn't like it there. But then again… He wanted to make his father proud. What son didn't? He always tried to pretend it wasn't that bad, and that his hugest problem was how to get out of the army thing. But the truth was the biggest problem he had was that he longed for a nice word from his father. It didn't matter to him what the old man said. Just something nice. And right now, after those hard weeks, he would have done anything to get a "Well done, Ryan." Or something like that. He hoped, when he would get home tonight, since it had been his last day, his father would say something. Something positive. Though Ryan seriously had done nothing to deserve a negative statement this time. But you never know.

--

Ron drove him home, but he was silent the whole time. Ryan noticed it.

"Bad news?"

Ron nodded, "Yeah. I'm afraid, but I have to leave. I need to go back to Miami. Tonight. Important job. You know I would stay here, normally, but this job is really important…"

"You don't have to feel bad, Ron. Seriously not."

Ron sighed, "But I do feel bad, Ryan. This is why I ask you now, and you have about two hours to decide: You want to come with me to Miami? You're finished with your job, you still have some time before school starts again, and I think you could need a bit of fun time."

Ryan frowned, "You think he will let me go? I mean…"

"Oh, he will. And if I have to convince him."

Ryan shook his head, "No, Ron, don't. I will try, and if not, then I'll stay here. But thanks for the invitation…"

--

When Ryan arrived home, he immediately went to see his father. When he knocked on the office door, his father only responded ten minutes later.

"Get in." Ryan opened the door, entered the office, closed the door behind him and waited for his father to ask him what he wanted. It took another seven minutes. "Why are you here?"

"I just wanted to tell you this was my last day at work…"

"I know. What else?"

Ryan looked down, "Uncle Ron has asked me… if I'd like to spend the rest of my time before school starts with him in Miami… May I, sir?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, Sir." He left the office. When he had closed the door he smiled and raced to the phone to tell Ron.

--

Ron picked him up an hour later. Ryan was just about to load his luggage into the car when his father came outside. Ryan felt his heart getting heavy. What was he doing here? But Duke just walked over to Ron.

Ron raised his head, "What?"

Duke gave his brother a serious look, "You gonna bring him back, won't you?"

Ron grinned, "If he wants to stay with me, I'm not going to throw him out…"

"Why would he stay with you in Miami?"

Ron shrugged, "If you don't know… I just tell you one thing, Duke. If he doesn't want to come back, he will stay with me. I'm not going to send him back just because you want it. In contrast to you, I'm interested in what Ryan wants."

"And I am not?"

"Oh, of course you are…. Sure…. Well… Our plane takes off soon, and I'm sure you wouldn't want us to miss it. So good-bye brother, I see you again soon, maybe…" He smiled and got in the car.

Ryan said his parents good-bye and got on the passenger's seat. When Ron drove to the airport, Ryan felt himself smile. Miami….

--

AN: I know, this is a short chapter, but it was only for filling the gap… Thanks for reviewing, and adding the story to alerts list and stuff, it makes my day.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

When Ron and Ryan got off the plane, it was already late evening in Miami, but nevertheless the sun was shining and it was hot. Ryan immediately felt at ease. He had always seen Miami as some sort of far-away paradise, and after those last weeks, he was even happier to be back in that paradise.

Ron shoved him gently, "I have something to take care off. I'll be right back; can you get our suitcases in the meantime?"

Ryan nodded and walked over to where the suitcases arrived. He saw Ron's suitcase arrive and reached out for it; his own arrived a minute later. He pulled them both away to a quiet spot and waited for Ron. He looked around and watched the people. Most of them were tourists. People like him who wanted a taste of the wonderful life in Miami. Most of them couples, but also some single people were there. Ryan noticed a tall girl with long red hair, all alone. He frowned. There was no adult around her, but she sure wasn't older than him, if not even younger. Nevertheless, she seemed to be completely at ease. He guessed she was a tourist, because she didn't have the typical Miami tan, but was rather pale. But she had to be from a big city, because the huge crowd of people that gathered at the airport didn't seem to make her nervous. He shrugged and looked around for Ron. Whatever he had to take care of at an airport… When he didn't see Ron, he continued watching the people around. They were so many… He wondered why they were here; was it to make holidays, have a good time, or maybe they wanted to start a new life here, dreamers of the American Dream… or maybe some of them ran away from home, just like he had planned to…

"Ryan? What are you thinking about?"

He turned around, "Nothing, Ron. I was just watching the people."

Ron grinned and took one of the suitcases, "As usual. Come on let's go. We bring our stuff home, then we go and have some nice dinner, and after that you can run the streets while I do my job."

--

And Ryan ran the streets that night. It was such a delight being out at night, even if he wasn't allowed in bars or clubs. But well, the real life in Miami was outside the buildings, on the streets. He made his way down to South Beach, like he had done so many times before. When he sat down and buried his toes in the warm sand, he felt happy. Pure happiness. The smell of the sea, the warmth of the sand, the noise on the streets… He smiled. What else did he need….?

--

When he woke up again, it was already late morning. Damn, he had fallen asleep! He immediately got up and raced to Ron's flat. He knocked on the door.

Ron opened. When he saw his nephew, he frowned, "You're not gonna tell me you went out jogging that early?"

Ryan shook his head, "I just got home… I fell asleep on the beach. I'm sorry, I really am…"

Ron laughed, "Oh come on, don't apologize. I didn't even notice you were out… or better, that you didn't get in again… You met a girl?"

"No, why would I?"

Ron poured him some coffee ,"I just thought… I mean, you're sixteen. Don't boys your age start looking for girls?"

"Well… I don't know."

"Well, if you look for guys, that's perfectly okay…"

Ryan sat down and took a sip, "No no, I didn't mean it like that… It's just… most of the girls are… boring." Ron grinned. "No, seriously, Ron. I mean, this friend of mine, he has this girlfriend who just does everything to please him. That's boring, isn't it?"

"Sure it is. I mean, I don't tell you news when I tell you I had a number of ladies in my life… and I can tell you, there's nothing worse than a girl who does everything you want. If you want an advice from me: Try to find a girl who is ready to fight the world for you, who has her own style, who is intelligent, funny, and the most important, who is passionate about everything in her life. There is nothing sexier than passion."

Ryan smiled a bit, "Does that count for boys too?"

"So, you are interested in boys?"

"No, I'm not… I just…" He took another sip. "I mean, do girls like it too when guys are passionate about what they do?"

"Of course, why do you ask?"

Ryan put the cup away, "Who knows if I ever can be passionate about this whole soldier thing?"

"Well, you have a uniform then. Girls love uniforms." Ron grinned. But then he asked, "So, you are still not sure about your decision?"

Ryan sighed, "I don't know. Sometimes I think it is just the right thing for me… But then I think there must be something else I'd do, something that doesn't make me feel sick when I think about. And then again I think just why do I make such a fuss, I should just do what I'm asked to and make my parents proud. I don't know what to think…"

Ron watched his nephew's inner fight. He asked, "Let's think about it. Is there anything else you would like to do? Any career that would interest you?"

Ryan thought about that question. The face of Officer Channing appeared in front of his eyes. The girl he had seen at the police station. The rape victim. "I... I don't know…" He told Ron the story. "I mean, Channing is right, isn't he? There's so much violence around, they need people here to protect the cities and stuff. I know it's gonna be hard, but… I think I can make it."

Ron thought a bit about it, "It's not that different from being a soldier…"

"I know. But still, I have the feeling I can help people more if I stay here and protect them here, you know… I don't know…" Ryan leaned back. "I have no idea what to do…"

"It's okay, Ryan. You don't have to decide now. You're young; you still have plenty of time…"

"No, I don't… I have to make a decision, or else I'm going slightly mad… The whole time, there's just one thought in my head, this 'what am I gonna do?' thought. I… I want this to be over… As fast as possible."

"Ryan, I understand you. Believe me, I do. But don't rush it. Eventually, if you do, you might regret it. You have time. I know how hard it is for you. But I know you're strong, and you can handle that pressure. And deep inside, you know that too."

Ryan nodded. Slightly. But it was a nod, "You're right, Ron. You are…" Ron grinned, got up and patted Ryan on the shoulder.

"And, now, for the time you're here, stop worrying about it. Enjoy the sun, the city, enjoy life. Come on, let's go out and see what's outside."

--

In the late evening, Ryan and Ron got back home. Ryan had put his arm around Ron's waist to support him. He didn't exactly know just when Ron had started drinking. He had left Ryan alone on the beach for about an hour, doing business, and when he got back, he was already completely wasted. Ryan had laughed, but then decided it would be a better idea to bring Ron back home.

Ron swayed over to the couch and let himself fall, "Thank you…"

Ryan grinned, "You're welcome. How much did you have?"

Ron frowned, "I remember…. Uh… some beer… some wine… and vodka… I think lots of vodka…"

"You were gone for an hour, how the hell did you manage to drink that much?"

Ron laughed, "That's easy… Oh Ryan… You… know... I sometimes wish you were my son… I would… treat you soooooooooo much better than this jerk does… You know…. It's such a shame… you're… such a good boy… I think I need a bathroom…." He got up again and swayed over to the bathroom.

Ryan grinned a bit, but then thought about what Ron said. Did he wish for Ron to be his father? Well… Duke and Ron couldn't be more different from each other. Duke had married at the age of 24, a woman from a rich family, had two children… Ron was still single, had his share of women and probably more children than he knew. Duke had a job, a reputation, a lot of money. Ron had the same… only on the other side of law. Ryan sighed. Why was he thinking about it in the first place? He was Duke's son. Nothing would change that. And he loved his father. He really did. With all his heart. Though he pretended more often than not he didn't. And while he was listening to the noises from the bathroom, he made his decision. Whatever it took, whatever he had to go through, he _would_ make his father happy. He would join the army. He would become a soldier. He would make his career. And Duke would be proud.

--

A/N: It apparently only takes a moment like this to change lives. So, Ryan has decided to sign up. What will happen now? Will he make old Duke proud? The answer in the following chapters… and hint hint the more you review, the happier it makes me, the more time I have (after the _Tour de France_, I'm practically all yours), the more I write, the faster I update…


	12. Chapter 12

Oh yeah, please remember: I don't own the show, Ryan, or anything you recognize.

**Chapter 12**

Two weeks later, Ryan flew back home. Ron had again told him that he shouldn't hesitate to call him when he needed him, but since Ryan had made his decision, he was sure he didn't need Ron's help anymore. The evening before Ryan had left Miami, he had a long discussion with Ron which had been interrupted by some of Ron's friends that had come over. Ryan knew what Ron wanted: He wanted to show him how funny live could be. And Ryan had to admit, hanging around with Ron's friends had been huge fun. They had, of course, a few beers, and suddenly they started playing a bit of music. Apparently those were the guys Ron had planned to make a band with. Ryan never found out why Ron didn't actually make that band, he just guessed it was because concerts at night were too difficult to combine with Ron's job… since safe-cracking was more of a night-shift work. Anyways. Now Ryan was sitting on the plane, and planned how he would go on now. He needed an educational degree. But he had no idea which one. Would college be enough? He sighed. This for example was one of the questions he should've asked Douglas. He was such an idiot sometimes. But well, he still had opportunities to find that out, since his father was bringing people from the army over like… almost everyday. He would have his opportunity…

--

When he got home, he noticed something was wrong. Not because nobody had picked him up at the airport. That had happened before. It was more of an aura that surrounded the house. He put his key into the lock, but at that moment already his mother opened the door.

She immediately hugged Ryan, "Oh, Ryan, I'm so glad you're back…"

Ryan was surprised: Okay, he mother was way warmer to him than his father, but she rarely hugged him, and never like this. The alarm bells in his head started ringing, "Ma'am… what happened?" He now saw his mother's eyes were bloodshot. She had cried. "Ma'am…" Ryan was terrified. What had happened?

His mother just shook her head a few times. But then finally, she managed to say, "Deborah…"

Ryan immediately raced towards his sister's room. It was empty. He turned around and asked, "Can you please tell me what has happened? What's with Deborah? Is she injured? Did she have an accident? Ma'am, please tell me…"

His mother had new tears dwelling up in her eyes as she started, "It happened yesterday…. She was on her way back home… when this car came… I could see it from the window… it just… hit her… and drove away." Now she was crying again. "We called the ambulance immediately…."

Ryan didn't really dare to ask, "Is she…"

But luckily, his mother shook her head, "No. She's alive, thank God… But…. Both her legs are broken. The doctors say she'll be able to walk again..."

_But her days as a ballet dancer might be over…_ Ryan finished the sentence in his head. "Where is Dad?"

"He was on a business trip with Mr Douglas and Mr Smith. He'll be back as soon as he can." She took a handkerchief out of her pocket. "The cops were here. Together with the Crime Scene Investigators. Officer Roberts said he doesn't think they'll find him. Or her. Gosh, I don't even know who almost killed my little baby girl…" She blew her nose.

Ryan only thought for a second and then said, "I'm going to the hospital. I want to see my sister." Okay. He wasn't very fond of the little bastard, but she was his sister. And he wanted to be by her side now.

--

When he arrived at the hospital and knocked on his sister's door, it was opened by Officer Roberts. He frowned a bit, but when he recognized Ryan, he smiled, "I thought the name "Wolfe" sounded familiar to me. How are you, Ryan?"

Ryan shrugged, "I just heard about my sister, so I'm a bit… well, shocked. How is she?"

Roberts sighed, "I heard she's a ballet dancer? It's hard on her that nobody knows whether she can go on… And of course she's still in shock. But I'd say she's physically okay… And doctors say she can walk again."

Ryan only nodded; he knew for his sister this wouldn't mean a damn thing. So he just asked, "How big are chances that you gonna find this guy who did it?"

Roberts closed the door, "I don't know. Normally we have quite a good percentage when it comes to hit-and-runs. But this one… I don't know. We gotta have to wait for the crime scene guys to get results. They currently try to find out which car it was. Your sister could only tell us it was green. But it shouldn't be difficult, once we know the type of car…"

"Yeah, there aren't many green cars around… She couldn't tell you whether it was a normal car or a SUV or stuff?"

"No, only that it was big. But nothing more. Maybe she remembers after a while. Well, I've finished here, so if you want to go in and see your sister, you're free to do so. A familiar face might be what she needs… You don't know when your father is coming back, do you?"

"No. He told my mother he'd come back as soon as possible. But that doesn't mean it's gonna be today…"

Roberts nodded, "I see… May I talk to you for a second? Before you go in?" Ryan nodded. The two went to the cantina and had a cup of coffee, before Roberts started: "Ryan… I don't know where to start. I talked to Officer Channing shortly after you had that incident with McCormick… Now, don't be offended, he was just worried. He told me you showed some signs of physical abuse…"

Ryan interrupted, "I'm not being abused…"

"Please let me finish. Victims of abuse often don't talk about it, but as cops, we know what we have to look for. So, when I was called to interview your sister, I took a closer look than usual, since Officer Channing told me what he thinks. And I found some injuries on her…"

Now Ryan was all ears. There was one thing he knew: Whatever had happened to his sister, it hadn't been his father. So Deborah probably had other problems… "What did you see?"

Roberts sighed, "Bruises, cuts… The doctors probably saw more than I did, but it's enough to alert me. Now, Ryan… What I'm asking you, is: Does your family have problems? I mean, if it was just your sister, I'd prolly say she's a bit clumsy. But with two children out of one family… Look, Ryan, this is not an interrogation. What you tell me here will stay between us."

Ryan smiled a bit. Yeah, of course it would. Sure. But he thought about it. If he told Roberts there was no abuse in the family, he probably wouldn't believe it. He would investigate the family, discover the truth… but that meant, if he was right about Deborah having all those injuries, whoever did this to her would remain undiscovered, and probably hurt her again. That was something he couldn't let happen. After all, she was his sister, he was her older brother and had the feeling he needed to protect her. So he had to tell the truth. Yes, there was… well, not abuse. His father wasn't abusive. So, yes there was a bit of a stricter education in his family, but that his father hadn't done this to Deborah. That his father loved Deborah and would never hurt her. But he had to be careful talking about that fact. If he said something wrong, Roberts would probably think it was abuse what his father did to him, even if it wasn't, and who knows what he would do? So, he had to be careful.

"I… what I can tell you is that my father, or mother, would never hurt Deborah. You're looking for someone outside the family."

Roberts watched him, "How about your injuries then? The ones Officer Channing saw?"

Ryan shook his head, "That was nothing."

"Ryan…"

"Seriously, nothing."

"Why don't you trust me?"

Ryan shook his head, "There is nothing special. Look, I did something wrong, I got punished. And I deserved it. And it wasn't half as bad as you make it look like. It happens everyday, in so many other families."

Roberts gave him a look, "Yes, Ryan. It happens in many other families. And every week, we have a victim. A dead victim. A wife, a child, a toddler… They die because of simple 'punishment'. They are victims of abuse. Like you. I don't know what makes you think you have deserved this. But let me tell you one thing: No kid on earth deserves getting beaten up by those who should care for their well-being."

"I wasn't beaten." Ryan answered.

But Roberts only said, "He left marks on you. Visible marks. That's abuse."

Ryan shook his head and got up, "Instead of accusing my father for something he didn't do, better look for those people that hurt my sister. I tell you one thing: This wasn't my father. He would never ever lay hand on Deborah."

Roberts remained sitting on the chair, "But on you? The only son?"

Ryan laughed, but it was no funny laugh. He only said, "We're done having this conversation." Then he put his hands in his pockets and left the cantina. He walked back to Deborah's room and knocked on the door again. He heard a low "_Get in…_" He opened the door and closed it behind him again. Deborah was lying on the bed. Both her legs were in casts, so was her left wrist. There were bruises on her face, scratches on her chin and a bandage around her head. She looked so weak.

But when she saw her brother, she smiled a bit, "Ryan…"

He sat down at her bedside, "Hey, little one…" At the sight of her face, he forgot everything that had happened during the last years. He forgot every punishment he had gotten because of her. She was his sister, and whatever she had done to him, he had to be there for her now… especially if Roberts had been right… "How are you?"

A tear dwelled up in her eye, "It hurts so bad… I want to see mommy. Where is she?"

Ryan caressed her uninjured hand, "I'm sure she'll be here with you soon… How did that happen?"

"I was coming home from ballet when this car came. It was huge… and green. And it hit me. And drove away. And then I woke up here." She cried more now. "I will never be able to walk properly again…"

Ryan's heart ached. To see his sister like this hurt him more than he could tell, "You will, Deb. It's gonna be alright again. You have to be patient and fight…"

She looked at him, "You think so?"

Ryan shrugged, "I know, sweetie…"

He pretended to look out of the window while his sister was wiping her tears away, but instead with his eyes he scanned her body, or what was visible of it. And he discovered what he was looking for. She had faint bruises on both her arms. They were barely visible anymore. _So they're not from the accident._ He also spotted some on her leg, half hidden by the cast. So Roberts was right. Somebody was hurting his sister… His thoughts raced. He could ask her, but if she was like him, she wouldn't tell. Maybe she was being bullied at school… or some father of a friend had done this to her… He didn't know. He just knew he had to find out somehow, and tell the police. Like this, they wouldn't suspect his father of abuse anymore.

"Ryan?" Deborah's voice distracted him in his thoughts.

"Yes, Deb?"

"Is Daddy at home?"

Ryan shook his head, "Not yet. But he's on his way…"

She nodded, "Good. I want my Dad here…"

Ryan smiled a bit. If only Roberts had heard that!

--

A/N: I hope you liked that chapter, took me a bit longer, sorry for that. Please review and tell me what you think…


	13. Chapter 13

Your faithful author would like to tell you that she doesn't own CSI Miami, Ryan Wolfe, or anything you may recognize. Besides, a warning. There's gonna be mentions of abuse in this chapter. Some action again. You've been warned.

**Chapter 13**

Ryan's father arrived the next day. Of course, the first thing he did, after kissing his wife, was to race to the hospital, visiting his daughter. When he came back, he was pale. He sat down at the dining table, with a cognac in his hand.

"I can't believe people do things like this. Who on earth hits a small girl and just drives away?" He took a sip. "And those cops… I seriously doubt they will find anything. I don't know what they get paid for. Roberts told me something about paint trace the crime lab has found. I mean, seriously. How are they gonna find that guy if they investigate paint? They should go out, ask the neighbourhood whether somebody has seen something, and then go and arrest people. That's how it is done. A couple of geeks and nerds with funny instruments don't help a bit." He took a sip of his cognac. "Poor Deborah. Who knows if she can dance again? She loved dancing so much… This bastard of a driver, if I can get my hands on him…"

Ryan, who was about to set the table, suddenly stopped; something in his head told him he missed something. Something important. Damn, what was it…? He looked at the plate, trying to catch this thought again. He just thought he had it when his father said:

"Aren't the plates round enough for your taste, or are you trying to place them symmetrically? What the hell are you waiting for?"

Ryan shook his head, muttered a low 'Sorry' and continued. He would think about it later, when he was alone…

--

He was just about to go up to his room after dinner, when the doorbell rang. Since Ryan was the only one downstairs, he opened. A young girl stood before the door. Ryan didn't know her. He said, "Can I help you?"

She smiled at him, "You're Ryan? I'm a friend of Deborah's. My name is Sasha."

"Hey, Sasha. I'm afraid, Deborah is not here. She's in hospital."

Sasha nodded, "Yeah, I know, it was all over the news. I just thought I'd bring her these." She gave him a bag. "These are her ballet shoes; she forgot them the last time."

Ryan didn't take the bag. He just looked at the young girl's arm. Bruises. Ryan thought a bit, and then took the bag and said, "I'll bring her these… You, er… you know my sister from dancing, or are you in the same class at school?"

Sasha smiled, "Only from dancing. She is one of our best… well, was…. I'm so sorry for what happened."

Ryan nodded, "Yeah, it's terrible… Listen, I was just thinking of going to the hospital to visit Deb. You wanna come and join me?"

Her smile became brighter, "I'd love to… Can I call my parents from here and tell them?"

"Sure."

Ryan showed her where the telephone was. He closely watched her. She was limping a bit. He could of course not see her legs to determine whether or not there were bruises. But the ones on her arms were enough for him. So, there was someone at Deborah's dance school who bullied the young girls. He thought of calling Officer Roberts, but he was certainly busy with the car. And he didn't believe him anyway. He needed more than just a suspicion.

Sasha came back, "Okay, I can go, if you bring me back home…"

Ryan laughed, "Yeah, I'll do…" _More time for me to find out what's happening at that school…_

--

Deborah was happy when she saw her friend, so Ryan let the two girls talk a bit while he checked on what his sister could need from home. But even though he appeared concentrated on his work, he listened to the girls' conversation. But they didn't talk about dancing, only about boys and soaps and sitcoms…

But Ryan managed to have a conversation with Sasha when they were on their way home, "So, tell me a bit about dancing. Is it fun?"

Sasha looked at him suspiciously, "You wanna dance, too?"

Ryan laughed, "Oh, God no… I don't think I'm meant for dancing… No I just asked. Trying to make conversation, you know…"

"Ah, okay… Yeah, it's fun. I mean, it's so much work. We have to be so disciplined. You know, take care what we eat, what we drink; do our exercise even if we're at home…"

"Yeah, I can imagine… I've seen Deb exercising a lot at home… And your teacher? How is she?"

"Tatiana?" She thought a bit about it. "Well, she is good… very strict though. She wants us to be good."

Ryan nodded, "I understand that approach… it seems to be quite a dangerous sport, so she wants to be sure you're good, so that nothing happens, I guess?" He was subtle, asking his questions.

And Sasha didn't notice, "Yeah, that's it. But sometimes, you know… I think she… well, doesn't matter." Sasha shook her head. "We all want to become good dancers."

Ryan watched her, "You're limping. You're sure you can walk home the whole way?"

Sasha nodded, "Yeah, sure, no problem…"

"How did that happen, if I may ask?"

"Accident at sport…"

"At dancing?"

"Yeah… overstretched my leg… Happens every time…" She was reluctant, suddenly.

But Ryan knew enough. For now. And more, he remembered what he had tried to remember the whole morning. What his father had said…. _Who knows if she can dance again? She loved dancing so much…_But he also remembered clearly what Deborah had said: _I will never be able to walk properly again…_Deb hadn't cared about dancing. Only about walking. He had to talk to her. If he was right, about that Tatiana girl, something had to be done… In the meantime, they had arrived at Sasha's house. He brought her to the front door, said good-bye and waited till she was inside, then he went back to the hospital.

--

Deborah was looking out of the window when Ryan came back.

"You're back? It's nearly dinner time…"

Ryan shrugged, "This is more important. Listen… I need to talk to you."

Deborah frowned, "What about?"

Ryan didn't know how to start, so he just took a shot, "I know what your dancing teacher is doing to you."

Deborah looked at him in shock, "Sasha told you? We were supposed to tell nobody. Oh Ryan, please, don't tell anybody. If she finds out, she's gonna treat me bad when I come back."

"You wanna go back?"

"I have to! What do you think daddy is gonna say when I say 'Oh, I'm not dancing anymore.'? You know what he thinks about such people!"

"Yeah, better than anyone else… But Deb, listen. This woman is hurting you. I don't exactly know how, but come on. Those bruises..."

"She just tried to put my arm in the right position. It's normal."

"Deb, no it's not. I mean, sure, she shows you right positions, but she doesn't have to almost rip your arms and legs of. And Sasha's overstretched leg? That's surely also her fault, isn't it?" Deborah didn't say anything. Ryan sat down at her bedside. "Deb. I know we don't have the best of brother-sister relationship. Which is mainly your fault, if I may add. But I feel responsible for you. And if you want, I'll talk to dad. But believe me; I'm not going to let you go back there. Unless you absolutely want…" He watched his sister.

She shook her head, "I don't. But what will Dad say?"

"Doesn't matter, Deb. You have to think of yourself. You're still young, and if she ruins your body with her exaggerating exercise, you'll suffer the rest of your life from it. Right now, it'll be okay… As I said, I'll talk to dad. Like this, when you get to talk to him, he knows… and has probably calmed down again…"

Deborah looked at him, "You're gonna take the heat for me?"

Ryan got up and smiled, "That's what older brothers do, ain't it?"

--

When Ryan got home, dinner was already finished, and a pretty pissed off Duke sat on the couch, "Is there any good reason for you to not come to dinner and not even tell us about it?"

Ryan lowered his head, "Yes, Sir, there is something. About Deborah."

"Your sister is in hospital. Don't even try to say something bad about her…"

"I'm not, sir. I talked to her… An officer who questioned her told me about some bruises on her arms, and… well… I saw the same kind of bruises on Deb's friend Sasha… from dance school… I talked to both girls… It's their teacher, Tatiana. She… I don't exactly know, but she hurts the kids. You know, asking too much, and if the little ones can't do it, she helps them, stretches their arms and legs… Sasha had an overstretched leg because she couldn't bend it as much as the teacher wanted… And… Deborah… when she's okay again… she doesn't want to go back to dancing. She wants to stop…"

Duke watched his son, "And why isn't she telling me? Why do you do?"

"She is afraid what you would think of her… because…. of your low opinion of people that give up easily…"

"Did you tell her that?" Duke got up from the couch.

"No, no, I didn't…" Ryan moved a step backwards.

"Then why does she think such things of me? And don't move away from me…"

Ryan fought the urge to just run upstairs and hide in the closet or something. Instead, he did something way more stupid, "Well, maybe because you always say that giving up is the worst thing one can do, and that you can't have respect for anyone that does. But, you know, maybe that's just about me, because apparently it does make a huge difference for you if it's Deb who gives up on something, or me! If that was me, I wouldn't want to know what you'd do to me, but of course since it is Deb, everything's okay. That's so unfair, you know…" Ryan hadn't even really finished the sentence when Duke came towards him, with fast steps. Ryan closed his eyes and prepared for the inevitable.

"Don't close your eyes on me, you coward!!" It made Duke only more furious. He grabbed Ryan firmly by the neck and dragged him through the living room until they arrived at the door that led to the basement. Duke opened it and shoved Ryan in. Ryan managed to grab the handrail, or else he'd probably fallen down the twenty-seven stairs. The door closed again, and Ryan could hear the key being turned around. "See you tomorrow." was the only thing he heard, then Duke's footsteps walking away from the basement door. Ryan sat down on the stairs, his back against the door. His hand wandered up the wall, trying to find the light switch. He found it, but the light remained out. Just great. Another night, sitting here in the dark. He rubbed his neck and then ran his fingers through his surprisingly long hair. Well, at least he could be sure of one thing: Deborah was out of danger. She wouldn't have to go back to dance school. Daddy wouldn't let her go back. At least Ryan had managed to do what he wanted: keep little sister safe.

--

Thanks for reading… And check out Compleatly Random Dissorder's new story, „A Cold November in Miami", it's really good so far (hope you don't mind me telling them this ;) ). But don't forget to review this one, please. I beg you. Please review.


	14. Chapter 14

gain, for the sake of repetition, I own nothing. No Ryan, no CSI. And again, warning: mentions of child abuse in this chapter.

**Chapter 14**

When Ryan woke up the other morning, he was lying on the floor. He remembered, when he was younger, and his father had locked him in, he had leaned against the door to sleep. Like this, he could hear his parents outside, walking around, doing whatever they did while their son was sitting in the basement, trying not to freak out because it was dark. Funny enough, he'd never developed a real fear of the dark. Ok, he felt more at ease when there was light; this was probably why he never slept very long. And whenever he went to the eye doctor (Duke was terribly afraid that Ryan's eyesight wouldn't be good enough for Army Duty, so he took him to the eye doctor on a regular basis), he was scared silly the days before, that he could have some eye disease, and become blind, and had to spend the rest of his life in darkness. But then again, Ryan had always been panicking about such things. Come to think about, he probably was not only OCD, but a real hypochondriac nutcase… Wherever that came from. He sighed and climbed up the stairs and sat against the door. His parents were awake already. He wondered when his father would let him out. Normally, it was the first thing he did in the morning. But then again, that was only when Ryan had to go to school. Since it was still holidays, it could very well be that Duke let him in the basement the whole day… It was funny, actually. Since he had holidays, he would have preferred to get slapped a few times for his inappropriate comment. Okay, it hurt more, but at least it was over fast. And since he didn't have to go to school, he didn't have to hide bruises and stuff. But sitting here in the basement was…. so boring. Nothing to do all the time but think. And since he had taken his decision, he didn't want to think anymore. Everything was fine. He would do what his father expected him to do, and it would be okay. Period. He wouldn't start to rethink that.

--

Ryan didn't know how long he was sitting in the basement when finally the door opened. It was Duke. Ryan got up immediately.

Duke asked, "You have something to say?" Ryan knew what he wanted. An apology. Something like 'Sir, I apologize for having said that you are unfair. I was an idiot to say so. You always did what was right for me. I apologize, I don't deserve being your son.' Something like that. Ryan had already opened his mouth to say exactly that, when he couldn't. Suddenly, he couldn't. He wasn't sorry for what he said, it was the truth. Saying he was sorry would be a lie.

And Ryan Wolfe wasn't a liar, "I don't have to say anything, Sir"

"You're sure?"

"Yes Sir, I am."

The door didn't close. Duke just walked away. Ryan knew what it meant. And he left the basement and went to Duke's office.

--

Half an hour later, he was lying on his bed. On his stomach. His back was aching. His father had just given him a lesson. 20 beats. With the belt. On his back. Ryan preferred the belt to the cane, but still, it hurt like hell. The back went numb, normally after the first five beats, but as soon as the numbness was over, the pain came. And it came hard. He could be lucky that his dad knew where to hit, so there wouldn't be any dangerous injuries. But the pain was there. He got up and went over to the bathroom. He took his clothes off and turned the shower on. The cold water would help a bit. He glanced over his shoulder back into the mirror. Normally he didn't do that. But this time, he wanted. He wanted to see what Duke had done to him. Red marks were criss-crossing his back. None of them was bleeding, though. Duke never beat him till blood flew. But his back looked disgusting nevertheless. He got into the shower. When the cold water flew over his back, he had to swallow. Not because of the pain. But because of the rest that went on during such a 'lesson'. Kneeling down. Exposing his back to Duke. Being completely without shelter. Having to count aloud every beat. Feeling his voice getting weaker with every beat. He didn't knew why he had to count. He had figured out this was just another adding to his punishment. Maybe Duke was afraid Ryan would shut down, not concentrate on the beating, and as a result, not really 'feeling' it. By making Ryan count, Duke made sure Ryan would stay focused. And of course, knowing that, after the first hit, there were 19 more to come was a way of a subtle torture. But the worst thing was when he had to thank his father. Thank him! What for? For beating him? For humiliating him? Ryan could handle the pain. But this humiliation was too much. He slammed his fist against the wall. _Thank you for making me feel like shit…_ But then, he took a deep breath. Not showing feelings. He turned off the water, took a towel and rubbed is hair. When he looked into the mirror again, he had to smile, despite of the pain. Fuzzy. Fuzzy hair. He ran his fingers through it. It looked good. It felt good. He dried the rest of his body, and put some clothes on. Then he took his keys and went outside. He didn't know where to go. But he had to think. Now, that the machines in his head had started working again, he had to think.

--

He just walked around. Without a plan. At least, he thought so. But suddenly he found himself back at the police office. Well, if he was there, he could ask Roberts if they had already found someone that owned a car matching Deborah's description of the car that ran her over. He opened the door and asked for Robert's at the reception desk. He wasn't there.

But Channing was. He smiled when he saw Ryan, "Glad to see you're alright, Ryan. You're here about the hit-and-run I suppose?" Ryan nodded. Channing motioned him over to his office and offered him a cup of coffee. "So, let me fill you in. Our crime-scene investigators have found out that the paint trace found on your sister was not exactly green, but brown. It's easy to mistake in such a situation. They have also matched the paint to the paint of a delivery service car. Roberts is currently asking the manager of the local office whether one of his drivers had a damaged truck after the accident. He'll be back soon…"

Ryan looked at Channing, "You can find out such things simply by looking at a bit of paint?"

Channing laughed, "It surprises me again and again. The guys from the CSI can find out everything… at least, so it seems. I've been to many crime scenes where it looked to me like there was nothing that could give us a lead on the culprit. They found him. It's amazing what you can do with science…"

"What do you have to do to become a crime scene analyst?" Ryan didn't know why he asked.

Channing shrugged, "I don't know. Guess you have to be good in chemistry, physics, etc… Maybe have a special field of knowledge on one subject… I heard about this guy, also a crime scene investigator, who's one of the best etymologists in the States. But I don't know for sure. If you want, I can arrange a meeting with the supervisor of our night shift. You can ask him about that. Does that interest you?"

"I don't know… maybe…" Ryan bit his lip. "Can I ask you something else?"

"Shoot."

"When I was here to make my statement the other day… there was this girl… the rape victim… Did you find who did it to her?"

Channing nodded, "Just about two hours ago. Again, thanks to our CSI. The girl was smart enough the scratch her attacker. They found his DNA under her fingernails, and when the results came back this morning, we immediately arrested him. And he admitted his crime. I can tell you, I'll never forget the smile on the girl's face when I went over to tell her." He smiled now, too. "This is what I live for. Those moments. There's nothing better than being able to tell a victim that they'll have a bit of justice, at least… I'm surprised you remember her…"

Ryan sighed, "I can't get her out of my head. This... this face… I wonder what humans are capable of doing to fellow humans… to women… to children…" His voice trembled at the last word.

Channing watched him, "You know you can talk to me, Ryan."

Ryan nodded, "I know, yes. But I can't. It's okay…" He got up.

Channing did the same. He checked his watch. "Let's just check if the supervisor from night shift is here."

--

He was there. And he took his time with Ryan. He answered every question, explained every process they made, told him about the education he needed… Ryan took more notes than he did ever before in school. At the end of the conversation, he knew everything he needed to, plus many lovely anecdotes from the job. When he left the break room where they had been talking, he ran into officers Roberts and Channing. The smile on Roberts' face told him they had found the guy who ran Deborah over. And in this exact moment, Ryan Wolfe made his decision. He wouldn't join the army. He would become a police officer, and later on try to become a Crime Scene Investigator. Cop. Not soldier. The moment he made this decision, he felt his heart ease. The tension he had felt since he was old enough to understand what his father wanted was gone. He remembered the moment in Miami where he had decided to become a soldier. He had waited for this feeling. This feeling of pressure gone. It hadn't happened there. But it had happened now. And this was the most obvious sign to him that this time, the decision he had made was the right one. He smiled.

Channing grinned, "Seems like this conversation was a success. So, you gonna join us, instead of the army?"

Ryan nodded, "Yes. I'll become a police officer."

--

Author's Note: Again, thanks so much for all reviews and people adding my story to their favourites/alert list, I really appreciate that. I plan on doing like two or three more chapters, and the faster you review, the faster you'll get them. Luv ya all.


	15. Chapter 15

Okay, as I see it, this is the last official chapter. But there'll be an epilogue. I warn you: **There's abuse in this chapter. And it's violent. **Ok. And I don't own Ryan or stuff. You know that.

**Chapter 15**

Ryan was happy. When he walked home, he felt like singing. Finally, he knew what to do with his life. He would use it to help people. People around him that needed help. And to know what to do was something Ryan loved. But the moment he walked around the corner and stood in front of the Wolfe mansion, he felt the pain in his back again. He hadn't thought about that; how the hell was he going to tell his father? He would be so disappointed… and furious. Ryan didn't allow himself any illusions. The moment he told his father would be the most difficult moment in his life. He was afraid. And yet, he was not the kind of guy that put unpleasant things off. He would tell his father. Tonight. And whatever would happen, Ryan would handle it. With the strength that a soon-to-be cop had to show…

---

But when he stood in front of his father's office, his hand already raised to knock on the door, the fear hit him with all its power. Oh God no, was he mad? Madder than usual? The old man would smash him to pieces! He should just go. Leave in the middle of the night. He had Ron's money; he could just write a sad goodbye note and sneak out of the window, get to the airport, fly away and everything would be alright. But Ryan knew he couldn't do that. It was not his way of handling things. He had run away from the truth long enough. Now, it was time to face it. With all the consequences. He took a last deep breath and knocked on the door. And waited. And waited.

"Get in!"

He opened the door and walked in. He closed the door again. Then he stood there, his gaze was lowered, his head bowed. The clock on the wall ticked. Louder than ever. _Tick tack, tick tack, count the seconds, Ryan…_ 841, 842, 843…

"Are you here to apologize for that behaviour yesterday?"

Ryan shook his head, "No, Sir…"

"Then get out again."

"I can't, Sir. I have to talk to you."

"I don't want to hear anything from you."

Ryan raised his head, "But I have something to say. I made a decision today, and you should be the first to know. I will not join the army. I will go to Police Academy and become a cop." His eyes met the eyes of his father. _Silence. I hate that silence. Why doesn't he talk to me? Dad, please say something…_

"No, you won't. You will join the army and become a soldier. Period. And now leave."

"No, Sir, I will not leave. Those last years, I have done everything to please you. Everything. I did everything you ordered me to do. I wanted to make you proud, but it never happened. I even did that horrible job with Mr. Douglas there. Do you know what he made me do? No, you have no idea, because you don't care if I'm happy or not, you just care about making a brave little soldier out of me. But this won't happen. I will not join the army. And nothing what you say or do will change that."

Duke got up from his chair and walked towards Ryan, but unlike the day before, Ryan didn't step back. He had gone too far to step back. Duke stood before him, trying to stare Ryan down. Ryan felt he was trembling, but he looked back. No weakness, in God's name.

"You will join the army. I will not give up on family tradition because you want to write parking tickets. You will do what I say."

But Ryan shook his head, "No, Sir. This time, I won't… My last words."

It came too fast for Ryan to see. His father had raised his hand and slapped him right in the face. As Ryan wasn't prepared for the beat, he lost balance and hit the closet hard. The pain rushed through his shoulder down his arm, and he slid down on the floor.

Duke opened the belt of his trousers, "You will obey! I haven't educated you to become a cop! You will become a soldier!!"

"No, I won't!!!!" Ryan screamed, the pain in his arm almost freaking him out. He was sure the shoulder was broken, or at least dislocated.

But Duke showed no pity. He grabbed Ryan by the collar of his shirt. Ryan first thought that Duke wanted to drag him to the basement again, but Duke had another thing in his mind. Before Ryan could do something, Duke had pulled the shirt off. And then he started hitting him with the belt. It was nothing like the beating earlier that day before. There Duke had taken his time, had let pass a few seconds between each beat. Now, he just hit. Again, and again, and again. And not only on Ryan's back. Ryan was cornered between the wall and the closet, there was no way getting away from Duke. And Duke just continued. He landed a beat on his shoulder. On his chest. His arms. His back. Even one in his face. Ryan put his arms in front of his face and curled himself together on the floor to shield himself, but Duke only hit harder. Harder than ever before. Ryan didn't know if it was him screaming or Duke. But judging by the fact the screams became weaker, he guessed it was him. Then he felt it. The warm liquid on his back. Blood. It was the first time ever that he bled from a beating. But Duke didn't stop. Ryan felt the belt connecting with his body again, and again, and again. Duke didn't take care of what he was hitting anymore. Not even if he injured Ryan. He was furious. The brat would learn what it meant to disobey. Whenever he'd look in the mirror, he'd see what it meant… Ryan didn't know for how long it went on. He had managed to shut down. Miami… South Beach… Little Havana… Soon, he would be there. With Ron… Ryan opened his eyes. The beating was apparently over. Duke stood there, looked down at him, breathing hard. Ryan brought himself in a sitting position and raised his head. Duke noticed his son was in pain. But the way Ryan looked at him, straight into his eyes, showed him that he still wanted to do that cop thing. His body might be aching, but his soul was yet unbroken. Duke threw the belt in front of Ryan to the floor; Ryan's shirt followed.

"Clean the belt and the floor." Then he walked out again.

Ryan grabbed the shirt, but again a wave of pain rushed through his arm. He winced, then took a look at his shoulder. He was pretty sure it was only dislocated. He took a deep breath. Another deep breath. And then, as hard as he could, drove his shoulder against the wall. The pain made him scream out, but when it was gone, he saw that the shoulder was relocated again. When he moved it, cautiously, it still hurt, but it was way more bearable now. He grabbed his shirt and the belt, and started cleaning it. So much blood… His father's fine leather belt was drowned in blood. But Ryan managed to wipe it all off. Soon, the belt looked like it had never broken skin before. But Ryan knew better. He then started wiping the floor. He did it like he had always done it, like it was just the normal dirt on it, from shoes, dust, etc… not his own blood. His blood. If anyone had ever bled for his future, it was him. He also tried to clean the wall, but he only made it worse there. It would probably need some layers of paint to cover the blood. But at least, the floor and the belt were clean. The shirt was a goner, though. He got up and got out of the office, wanting to go to his room.

But Duke stood outside the office. "Everything clean?"

"Yes, Sir…"

Ryan hadn't even pronounced the last word properly when Duke grabbed him, this time by the hair, and dragged him down the stairs. Ryan tried to ignore the pain, but it was so hard… He had expected Duke would drag him to the basement, but when he saw the front door open, he knew he was mistaken.

Duke dragged him out of the house and threw him hard onto the front yard. He spat at him and said, "Don't you ever come back! I swear, the day I see you again here, you won't be able to stand on your own two feet anymore when I'm done with you."

Ryan just lay on the grass and watched his father go away. But Duke only managed a few steps when Ryan's mother ran out of the house, towards her husband, "Duke, you cannot do this! You cannot throw him out, where's he supposed to go? He's your son, Duke!"

"I have no son."

Duke just walked past his wife back into the house. Doreen stood there, not knowing what to say. Then she looked down at her son, who didn't say a word. Ryan had expected the beating. But not to be thrown out. Doreen was right, where was he supposed to go?

She sat down at her son's side, "Ryan, I'm so sorry… I'll talk to your father, I'm sure I can convince him…"

But Ryan only shook his head and got up. He put his shirt on, the blood-smeared shirt, and said, "It won't work. You have heard him, I'm no longer his son… Say hello to Deborah from me." And with those words, he walked away. Out of the front yard, out of the street. Away from family.

--

His destination was the nearest phone booth. He had a bit of money in his pockets. Funny. He couldn't even go back to the house and get the money Ron had prepared for him. Ron had foreseen things. And when Ryan dialled his number, he knew Ron would pick up.

"_Wolfe_?"

"Uncle Ron… it's Ryan… I… I have just been thrown out. I'm not allowed to go back… I forgot the money… I don't know where to go…"

"_What has he done to you_?"

Ryan smiled a bit, "I survived it…"

"_I'll take the next flight to Boston. Stay put, Ryan. I'll be there tomorrow._" He hung up.

Ryan hung up too. Then he leaned himself against the wall of the booth and slid down. Rested his head on his knees and started crying. He hadn't cried in years, and he knew he never would cry again, but right now, he had to. Though, could you call that crying? He didn't make a sound. He didn't even sob. There were just tears running down his cheek. Hysterical crying wasn't like Ryan Wolfe. Crying at all wasn't like Ryan Wolfe. This was why he stopped again, after those few tears. He had to plan on. He got up again, called a cab and got to the airport.

--

When he arrived at the airport, he went to one of the toilets. The face that looked back at him shocked his. His right eye, the one where Duke's hand had landed when he slapped him was a bit swollen, and shone in dark blue. The hit Duke had landed in his face with the belt was a dark red. Ryan splashed a bit of water in his face, then took his shirt off and inspected his back. Ugly red wounds, dried blood. Exactly what he had expected from the feeling in his back. He knew some of those wounds would turn into scars that would never fade. Souvenir of the street. It would always remind him of what he had gone through to fulfil his wishes. He put the shirt back on and went outside, looking for a place where he could wait for Ron. It would take some hours for him to get there, so it would be good if he found a place where there weren't too many people. When he walked through the airport, people stared at him. Duke's last act of humiliating his son… in public.

--

It was a long wait, but finally, the plane from Miami landed. Ron literally raced down the gangway. When he saw Ryan, he was at first shocked, "Oh my goodness, Ryan… That stupid…. I'm so going to…."

But Ryan shook his head, "It's okay, Ron… it's over." And he smiled. It was a sad smile, Ron noticed, but a smile.

He laid his arm around Ryan's shoulder, cautiously, because he knew where Duke must have hurt him, "Let's go to hospital, check on you. Then we go to the hotel, and you tell me what has happened. And then we decide what we're gonna do."

Ryan nodded. It felt so good, this 'we'. He wasn't alone anymore. And when he and Ron mounted a cab, he thought that maybe the price he had paid that night hadn't been too high at all.


	16. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_7 years later…_

"… _of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom_…"

Ryan Wolfe opened his eyes. The alarm clock showed him it was 7 a.m. Time to get up. But he allowed himself five minutes more cuddling into his pillow while listening to Ron's concert in the shower. How he had missed that! He had moved out of Ron's flat a year ago, when he finally had earned enough to afford his own little condo. Tonight, he had spent the night over at Ron's because he had redecorated the flat, and the smell of paint didn't let him sleep, so Ron had offered the guest bed to Ryan. As always, Ron had been there for him. He sighed, got up and got ready for breakfast.

--

Half an hour later, Ryan sat in his patrol car, waiting to throw himself into harm's way that day. But everything seemed quiet in those early morning hours, so he took his time, while sipping on his coffee, and thought about the last seven years. Seven years… Time had passed so fast. Seven years ago, Ryan had flown back to Miami with Ron, but only for a few more days. Then both had gone back to Boston. Ron had sublet his flat in Miami to some guy he knew, and had gotten himself a little apartment in Boston, where the two could live. Ron had wanted Ryan to complete his studies in Boston, where his friends were, where he knew the town and, Ron had to admit, where Ryan was safer than in Miami. The violence in Miami had started to increase more and more, and Ron was reluctant to let his nephew grow up there. They had lived in Boston until Ryan had finished not only high-school, but also gotten a degree in Chemistry at Boston College and finished Police Academy. Top of his class, of course. But then Ron had missed Miami too much, and had talked to Ryan about moving back. Ryan had thought about that too, and finally the two of them decided to get back to Miami. Ryan had immediately gotten a job. And there he was now: Officer Ryan Wolfe. And he loved it. Officer Channing had been right from the beginning. It was here where his help was needed. Not in Afghanistan. He had helped many people during the time he had that job. Well, he had done the first step. At some point, the CSI took over. In contrast to many other patrol men, Ryan didn't mind. He knew how important their work was; he had never forgotten the rape victim, he had never forgotten his sister… Deborah. He wondered where she was, and what she was doing. During the time in Boston, he had never tried to get in contact to her, or his mother. This chapter of his life was over. He hadn't gone to hospital that night seven years ago. Ron had pushed him to do, but Ryan had refused. He didn't want to bring more trouble on his family. He knew the hospital would report his father if they suspected abuse. But that was something he didn't want. It was over. What good was it to report the old man? It wouldn't give him any satisfaction. He had moved on. Sometimes though, when he was alone at home, he took his time and looked at himself in the mirror. More precisely, he checked his back in the mirror. Some of the wounds hadn't left a scar, but most of them had. Whenever Ryan looked at them, he was brutally reminded of where he came from. The first moment he flinched when he saw it, but then he knew it had been worth it. Suddenly, the radio creaked. Accident at the local shopping centre. Ryan was the unit closest to the shopping centre, so he started the car and drove over.

--

When he got there, a large number of people had already gathered around the scene. Ryan took a look at the victim, from a few feet away of course. No way he would go there and destroy possible evidence! He had often enough seen Horatio Caine, the supervisor of the Miami Dade Crime Lab dayshift, getting angry at other officers because they had destroyed a possible piece of evidence. And honestly, he could already see from his place that the victim was dead. A beautiful woman she'd been. He walked back to the car and made a dispatch that there was a dead body and they needed the CSI to come. Then he looked around the scene. He immediately noticed something important: Apparently, the accident had happened at the only place in Miami that wasn't full of surveillance cameras. _Just great_. He walked around the scene, but no result: No cameras, no ATMs, nothing. A whole lot of nothing. Ryan looked at the body and tried to think, when suddenly he heard people talking in a foreign language. He guessed it was German. Tourists. Well, this was a nice motive for a souvenir picture: Smashed body with blood all around. Souvenir picture… Ryan grinned. Of course. How could he not have thought of that?

He addressed one of the tourists, "Sir, Ma'am, I'm Officer Ryan Wolfe. You might have taped something important on your camera. Would you mind giving me your name and hotel, so we can come back to you if we need any clues?" They didn't.

--

The CSIs and the ME had arrived quickly. Ryan knew Horatio Caine. Everybody in this city knew Horatio Caine. Ryan looked at his list; he had the names of about ten people that had turned their cameras on or that had taken pictures just seconds before the victim had been hit by the bus. He didn't know if they had taped anything important. If there had happened anything important at all. Maybe she had just tripped, on those ridiculously high heels. He didn't know, but the CSIs would find out. He walked over to Horatio Caine, introduced himself and told him that there weren't any surveillance cameras around the scene but that he had taken the names of the tourists and then gave him the list. Then he walked away again, but seconds later, a young Latino guy laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, Wolfe?"

"Yes?"

"I'm Eric Delko. Horatio Caine would like to see you at the Headquarters later."

"Yeah, okay… I'll be there…." Delko nodded and left. Ryan watched him walking away and smiled. The supervisor of the MDPD CSI dayshift wanted to see him. Him. He got back to his patrol car and took a deep breath. This was the opportunity. And he would take it. It was the moment he had waited for the past seven years. And he would not screw it up. Never…

--

Okay, my dear readers, this was the story. I hope you liked it. I want to thank each one of you for having read, reviewed, added the story to favorites and alerts lists, added me to the favorites and alerts list, etc. It means the world to me. I also want to apologize if there were a lot of mistakes in the story, like typing, grammar and stuff. I always try to correct them as good as I can. Thank you very much.


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